Flash Fiction: The Last

Reads: 225  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 1  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
The Daughter looked sullenly around the council, at the hopeful eyes of politicians, bureaucrats, magistrates, men of wealth, and their chosen suitors, all knelt before her.

Submitted: December 05, 2009

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 05, 2009

A A A

A A A


The Daughter looked sullenly around the council, at the hopeful eyes of politicians, bureaucrats, magistrates, men of wealth, and their chosen suitors, all knelt before her. She nodded to the back of the room, and they began to filter out slowly, risking glances over their shoulders at the four boys prone before Her in total reverence.

“And close the door.” Her eyes scrunched up in irritation as she heard the door latch.

Her name was Zee. The very Last.

When the men had left the boys with her, She returned to her seat, floating feet above the prostrate supplicants with their eyes on the floor. Beads of anticipating sweat had begun to form on their perfectly manicured brows. The boys were beautiful. She knew they had the most aesthetically pleasing features, healthiest immune systems, strongest physiques, and highest IQ’s that the last batch of humanity could offer.

“Stand.” She had never once said the word, ‘please.’ When the boys rose to their feet, She imagined having them for a lifetime of servitude. Even so, She knew – even if She produced a good amount of offspring – and God willing, that they were healthy, it was next to impossible that one would be a Female before Zee reached menopause, and unable to try further.

“And why are you here?”

The boys looked nervously at one another and continued staring at the floor just below Her feet. She enjoyed this. Leaning forward, She raised the cutest boy’s chin with a long fingernail. He gulped deeply and shook when their eyes made contact. Males always swooned over the Last.

“Making Me repeat Myself is never a good idea.” Her words dripped with disdain, but  She held his gaze as he blinked rapidly and framed his answer. The silence broke with his inevitable reply, the one She expected. That same boring answer.

“Because, Daughter.. -” He scrambled for his thoughts and barely collected them in time. “Because you are to be humanity’s new Mother. You are the Last and our only hope as a species. The three of us have been selected,” he glanced to each side at the prone boys beside him, “to try to give you… Give everyone another Daughter.”

Zee sighed, traced Her fingernail back off his strong chin and stood, whirling Her robes as She kicked her chair across the room. Watching it float gracefully towards one of the long windows overlooking the city, She turned back to them. She commanded the boys to stand as the window shattered, glass sprinkling the city below.

“And why – why on Terra would I want that?” They looked quizzical, they always did. The males never understood how this could be anything but all She wanted. They kept quiet, but kept their dumbfounded looks on like masks. Finally, Zee continued.

“Why would I want to do that?” Her harsh exterior was visibly fading, replaced with sorrow, a dull resentment for the years leading up to this, knowing Her fate from the moment She was old enough to listen to her Mother – and her servants. One of the boys cleared his throat, and the Last turned to look at him. His eyes met Hers again and for once, a male seemed to understand Her pain.

“Miss Zee. Your duty is that of a Mother. Like Terra itself, it sacrifices its all for its children. To allow them to grow, continue their cycle. If mankind were to die out…” He trailed off and once again trained his eyes on the floor. A tear dotted the floor silently.

“If humankind were to die out,” She continued for him, “then Terra would be able to continue her cycle.” And with that, the Last stepped through the broken window, and slid silently downwards toward the city proper.



© Copyright 2018 Ashent. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

More Science Fiction Short Stories

Booksie 2018 Poetry Contest

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by Ashent

Flash Fiction: The Last

Short Story / Science Fiction

Flash Fiction: Birth

Short Story / Horror

Simple Elegance.

Short Story / Thrillers

Popular Tags