AI art – Page 7 – Deep Sky Anchor

Veins of Black, Dust of Gold

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in Daily Science Fiction, September 2018

“The green skin of her face split open revealing a smooth crystalline surface underneath.”

Am-lei had been growing stiffer by the day. Her long, green, tubular body was usually lithe and flexible. She could twist her way through the grav-bubble obstacle courses on the Crossroads Space Station playground better than any Heffen children in her class. Their canine bodies couldn’t bend in half, twist into a pretzel, or grab onto an extra jungle gym bar with a sixth pair of arms. Continue reading “Veins of Black, Dust of Gold”

Fetching Asteroids

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in Allasso, Volume 1: Shame, November 2011

The stars were thick, but the moons were thicker. Every year for the last decade, Earth’s sky had grown brighter with the reflected light of new lunar satellites. Generally a half a dozen small new moons per batch. Jordan had been working hard. He was a Labrador Retriever by heritage, and, back in human pre-history, those had been working dogs.

Ever since he was a pup who hadn’t yet grown into his giant feet and floppy ears, Jordan had known what he wanted to do with his life. He’d spent all of high school working hard at the car wash, saving his nickels and dimes, and staring up at the stars at night. Continue reading “Fetching Asteroids”

In a Cat’s Eyes

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in Dancing in the Moonlight: Rainfurrest 2013 Charity Anthology

“But, as he stared, he felt himself drawn in deeper, down into the tiny, reflected world inside those blue eyes.”

Jason’s brushy tail wagged like a flag as he trotted down the sidewalk in front of his house. He strained his neck against the leash, just a little, to help his master out. His master was always reluctant to go on walks, and the only explanation Jason could think of was that she must tire out easily. Heaven knew, Jason had energy to spare, so it was only fair that he help pull her along. Continue reading “In a Cat’s Eyes”

Wing Day

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in Daily Science Fiction, October 2018

“She had no reason not to be excited — she’d known all along that the wings she’d grow were vestigial and would need to be removed.”

Lee-a-lei had never been to a Wing Day party, much less thrown one herself. The butterfly-like alien crossed her uppermost pair of fuzzy exoskeletal arms and watched her clone-daughter scurry around their quarters, excited, sugar-crazed, and impatient for the guests to arrive.

Am-lei flapped her new wings, throwing herself into the air — she bounced off the ceiling and landed awkwardly on newly-long, spindly legs. A month ago, Am-lei had been a pudgy green caterpillar-babe. At least, Lee-a-lei had thought of her as a babe, even though she was nearly ten years old. Continue reading “Wing Day”

Sandbeard the Pirate Otter

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published by Furvana, June 2019

“Then paw to pedal, pedal to metal, her trawler screeched silently away through the vacuum of space, crenulated seashell sailing along behind it.”

Sandbeard the pirate otter, fiercest of the fierce, fuzziest of the fuzzy, and the best bewhiskered of all sea otters, steered her stolen space-trawler into the curving gravity well of a small oceanic moon. The lunar ocean was beautiful beneath her trawler — purple and choppy, swelling with swirling water, but toxic as a scorpionfish. Nice to look at; useless for swimming. But Sandbeard wasn’t here for a vacation; she was a pirate, and she was ready to pillage and plunder. Continue reading “Sandbeard the Pirate Otter”

The Ugly Sapling

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in Empyreome, January 2019

“If it couldn’t be a fruit tree like them, it didn’t want to be a fruit tree at all.”

Once upon a springtime in a magical garden, three saplings were planted in a row, along the bank of a sapphire lake. They were barely more than sticks, standing awkwardly in the sandy ground with their branch-arms raised toward the sky. All three looked alike, and they shivered together in their nakedness.

Continue reading “The Ugly Sapling”

Sparky

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in Galactic Goddesses, July 2019

“Rononia’s ultranet connection had gone out, and she couldn’t telepathically call the robot dog over its wireless connection.”

Annie squeezed the mechanical hand of her robo-nanny. The hand was cool and silvery like metal, but the smooth surface had a soft give to it like real flesh. Annie felt safe when she held Rononia’s hand.

“I need to take you home,” Rononia said, her voice low and even, but not mechanical. For all of the metallic gears visibly built into her elbows, shoulders, and anywhere else that hinged, Rononia had been given a deeply feeling, emotion-laden voice. And she was programmed to love the child she cared for. “We can’t go looking for Sparky.” Continue reading “Sparky”

For the Sake of Mushrooms

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in All Worlds Wayfarer, Issue I: Summer Solstice 2019, June 2019

“On the star maps, the sun’s name was still the same. But this red giant didn’t deserve a name. It didn’t deserve to be remembered.”

The red sun glowed like an evil eye on the forward viewscreen. It stared into Irudy’s soul. Once it had been the warmth on her fur and the shine in a smiling sky while she ran through fields, her paws bare against the wholesome dirt. Now it was death’s mocking wink, as the cold, stale air of her cargo ship recycled endlessly through algae filters and mechanical pipes. Continue reading “For the Sake of Mushrooms”

Galactic Garden

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in Furvana 2019 Conbook, September 2019

“Ariadella had watched other, older galaxy-spinners work their webs before. She’d seen their erratic patterns — artless and chaotic. She had better plans.”

Ariadella chose a cozy corner of the universe where the velvety blackness was thick with a rich, fizzy soup of hydrogen and helium. She settled into the lonely void and began gulping up the fizz, letting it process deep in her belly, until she had enough dark matter to begin spinning.

With her thousands of legs, Ariadella pulled silk from her spinnerets. The gravitational lines of silk brought tension, structure, and form to the swampy darkness. She spun from a central point outward, choosing a spiraling pattern as she went. Continue reading “Galactic Garden”

Tortoise Who

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in Exploring New Places, July 2018

“I’m a Time Tortoise from Galapagofrey. We’re both larger and smaller than we seem.”

By the concrete steps up to the footbridge over Dixon Creek, a tortoise shell phased in and out of existence, accompanied by a strangely cheerful wheezing sound.

Rosie the mouse was too busy running away from a cat to notice. The cat, a gray tabby named Shreddy, was having too much fun to care. Continue reading “Tortoise Who”