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POLL: This is my first published short story on here. Tell me honestly, how was it?

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SeerFang30077's AvatarSeerFang30077
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Disclaimer: This story is the written representation of the music video for Home We’ll Go (Take My Hand) by Walk Off the Earth Word Count: 1562
He didn’t have a name worth remembering. He was just a farmer, and an unsuccessful one at that. When the rains had stopped coming, he hadn’t had enough money to buy a biodome or a humidity manipulator or anything. All he had was a rusted water tower that didn’t hold a drop of water in it. The only source of water he had was water that was unsuitable for the fields, and could be only used for drinking. A city was just visible over the hills. It was difficult to see through the haze of light pollution and dust, but he could catch a glimpse of it every day when the too-big sun was exactly three-quarters through it’s cycle across the sky. There were people in the city whose names were worth remembering -- not that he knew any of them. He hadn’t experienced any human interaction in seven years. He was 35 years old, and the year was 2174. Though he had never gone to school, he knew how to read and write, even if he did neither particularly well. The only thing he owned, besides for what was essential, was a battered old journal that had been passed from his grandfather to his father to him. He only ever wrote in it when there was a change in his normal schedule, which wasn’t often, and he usually spent sleepless nights in the loft of the dusty old barn, staring out at the stars and reading about his father’s and grandfather’s lives. This is what he was doing that day. It had, to him, been especially hot and dry, and, in retaliation, the sky at night was especially calm and beautiful. He was reading about how his father had met his mother -- it was one of his favorite stories in the journal. Everyone in it was like him; names not worth remembering. Except for his mother. She was named after a yellow-hearted flower with white petals. He had never seen a flower in his life, but his father called it- no, called her ‘Daisy.’ He looked up from reading for a moment, staring out at the stars. Unexpectedly, a streak of light bounded across the sky, silhouetting against the too-big moon for a split second before crashing down into the farthest corner of his field. He stared at the spot incredulously for a moment before tossing the journal aside and running towards the field. From afar, the object that had fallen from the sky was obscured by smoke. When he stopped in front of it, the smoke had mostly cleared to reveal a girl. She had tanned, weathered skin and orange-to-black ombre hair. Her eyes were lines underneath with white, and they were almond-shaped with dull brown irises. She had a strange v-shaped marking on her forehead, and her hair was braided tightly onto her scalp on one side of her head, but on the other it cascaded down like a waterfall -- not that he had ever seen one, of course. He had read about it in the journal. He also noticed that she wasn’t a girl, but a woman. He could tell she was wearing clothes, but he couldn’t get a good look at them because she was crouched in a fetal position, with her knees drawn up to her chest. She was facing him, and she looked absolutely terrified as she stared at him. He shook himself out of his reverie and knelt down a few meters in front of her, his hands held out in front of him in an attempt to show her that he wouldn’t harm her. He took off his jacket and laid it down in front of her. She flinched but didn’t move away, only continuing to stare at him with frightened eyes. He opened his eyes to the usual red-tinted morning light streaming through the window. He blinked once before rolling out of bed. He noticed with a frown that he was still wearing the brown-and-red flannel, off-white shirt, and jeans from yesterday, though his overcoat was missing… He pulled on his only pair of shoes and walked downstairs to grab a beer. He stopped short when he saw the woman on his couch, and would have screamed if he remembered how. Then, the events of the night before came flooding back to him -- the streak of light, the woman, leading her back to the house and offering to let her stay for awhile (wordlessly, of course), her agreeing silently, and him returning to his room and being too exhausted to do more than tug his shoes off of his feet and lay down before he fell asleep. He slept better that night than he had in a long time. He was both relieved and disappointed that she hadn’t been but a figment of his imagination; he wasn’t alone anymore, but he wasn’t sure he knew how to handle it. He watched her sleeping form for a moment longer. Her clothes were strange; white belt-like material set in a strange arrow pattern that stretched across a tan cloth material covered her chest, and the tan cloth matched the skirt. She didn’t have shoes, and she had strange bracelets covering her left arm while her right arm stayed bare. He noticed with a blush that she had a rather small chest and narrow hips, and her stomach, arms, and much of her legs were exposed. It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps staring at her was rude or inappropriate, so he wandered into the kitchen, taking out and beginning to prepare two breakfast packages. She would likely be hungry when she woke up, after all. She had found breakfast to be strange, and his house, clothes, equipment, and farm to be even stranger. She had spent the morning exploring, and he was much amused by her reactions to everything. At the moment, she seemed torn between examining the truck and staring at the hills. She obviously was not of Earth, and he found this fact to be intriguing rather than alarming. He turned on the truck, and she looked startled and frightened at first, When he smiled reassuringly at her, she relented and reluctantly crawled into the passenger side. He started driving, away from the house and in the opposite direction of the city. At first, she was scared and refused to move, but as they drove along, she relaxed and decided to hang out the window. She loved it, he could tell -- her hair flew out behind her in the wind, and her arms were outstretched, as if she were flying. He couldn’t help but smile at her. Eventually he parked, and she tumbled out of the car. He laughed silently to himself before climbing out of the old twenty-first century truck and walking over to her. They started walking towards the hills; or rather, he walked after her as she danced, spinning around and around and laughing. The sound of her voice was melodious and beautiful, and he found himself staring at her again and smiling. He also noticed that her once brown eyes had turned green. The carried on like this for awhile, and it wasn’t until late afternoon that they stopped. They sat atop a hill under a dry tree, and the farm was just visible in the distance. He pulled two beers from his pack, opening both and handing one to her. She didn’t drink, but watched him helplessly to see what he would do. I took a sip and smiled encouragingly at her, and so she closed her eyes and took a tentative sip. She smiled, and then she was drinking as fast as she could. He laughed silently and took it from her before she could finish it. She giggled, stood, and ran off. He smiled to himself and followed, leaving the two bottles behind. He found her sitting on an old log that had fallen over a long-dry creek bed, watching the horizon, over which the sun beginning to set. He quietly sat down next to her, and after a few minutes, gently took her hand in his own. She turned and looked at him, and for a moment, he was afraid that he had overstepped some kind of barrier that he didn’t know about. But then she smiled, and he internally sighed in relief and smiled back. Suddenly, the marking on her forehead glowed ultramarine and a flower bloomed a meter or so away from where they were sitting. His breath hitched, it was a daisy. Before he could say anything, she was laughing, and dragging him along behind her as she ran up another hill. They stopped at the top, and he found himself standing a few meters behind her as she stared out at the sky, the marking glowing brighter than ever. Suddenly, it started raining for the first time in decades. She turned around, and in the blink of an eye she was standing in front of him. He had just enough time to register the fact that her eyes had changed to blue, and then she was kissing him, and he was kissing her, both uncaring of the rain the drenched them, and he finally understood why his mother had a name worth remembering, and decided that this girl that was in front of him, that was kissing him, deserved one, too.
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