In The Time Of Oharu

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In The Time Of Oharu
David R. Dorrycott | 2009-01-01 00:00:00 | David R. Dorrycott | 731 | Fiction
This is the final edit of In the Time of Oharu, The First year.
It was rejected by publishers and is now presented in this copyrighted form to any who wish to read it.

Colorfully painted, a twin engine aircraft of a design not seen on this planet in nearly eighty million years settled gently into rolling acidic waves. Once slowed it turned slowly towards a waiting outrigger canoe and cut both engines, quickly a crew member threw out a tentacle woven rope of expensively cultivated plant fibers. Pulling in close to the aluminum skinned vehicle, those four waiting in the canoe watched reverently as a female form stepped out. She wore only a grass skirt and a flower in her long green hair, on the left side of her skull of course. A flower that was even now worth a city’s value. Gently the female figure carefully settled into the wooden craft’s center. Quietly all four males began rowing away from the aircraft. Away from the caustic steam that drifted up as acidic ocean water attacked pure aluminum. Their voices, made rough by a raw biting atmosphere with too little free oxygen, slowly rose in a chant so old that the paper it had come from had crumbled under the slightest touch.

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