Roy Stevens
Bio
At Vocal people actually read my writing, thank you everybody! I spend most of my time herding cats. Please press the 'like' symbol if you read my stories and think they're deserving enough. Either way, thank you so much.
Achievements (1)
Stories (68/0)
After the Apocalypse (9) Finale
*** Graphic Descriptions of Real-world Events*** The tiny boy remembered nothing. He didn’t know where he was from. He didn’t know who his people were or even his own name. He spoke a fluent if childish Bahasa with a slight Javanese twang that suggested Anjer to Cahya. He did know that he’d lived in a bigger town, not a village, but that was all. He had awoken on the moving mattress of frail stone and was pitifully thirsty and hungry by the time he’d found Cahya on her floating oasis. Though he seemed frightened by it, he made a quick and respectful alliance with the tree rat and her miniscule family.
By Roy Stevens2 months ago in Fiction
After the Apocalypse (8)
*** This section of the story contains graphic descriptions of real-world events*** When she awoke from her stupor, Cahya found she was at the base of a rubber tree, bruised but unbroken. Puddles filled with all manner of debris surrounded her. Many of the smaller trees had been smashed to smithereens by the giant wave. There were bodies too, though she didn’t recognize anyone familiar. In any event, smashed faces frequently negated any hope of recognition.
By Roy Stevens3 months ago in Fiction
After the Apocalypse (7)
Cahya shrugged off Gemi’s disappointment over his poor pilfering; he didn’t know that he was pilfering anyway. She reminded him of the glorious rendang they would get to eat on Thursday, a village feast day. Taking the little boy’s -the after all not so little boy’s- shoulder, she guided him back toward the path to the village. On the way down there was no talk, or even thought, of the vacant bird traps. Gemi felt it would be a while before he would return to the secret grove after this latest poor reckoning. He’d long since lost interest in trying to catch the tiny songbirds.
By Roy Stevens3 months ago in Fiction
After the Apocalypse (6)
Gemi had plucked most of the low-lying vanilla fruit from the path side of the orchard so that he’d begun to climb the trees to get at fruit higher up. As it turned out however, the higher fruit was much sparser and nowhere near as tasty. The rest of the grove grew on the other side of a weathered knob which had probably once been a rise of land between hillsides. Gemi was afraid of the far side. He couldn’t exactly explain why he was afraid, though he knew it had something to do with the rise’s resemblance to the place where the inundation had caught him in the before time. He’d been little more than a toddler at the time and his words still failed him in any effort to describe his first home.
By Roy Stevens3 months ago in Fiction
After the Apocalypse (5)
The Crone, their grandmother- who was not their grandmother- was a supportive ally for Cahya. She had been strict and harsh with them at first, especially with Cahya, the girl and older, but she’d begun to soften over the past two months and was becoming particularly prone to spoiling Gemi, for whom she was starting to become aware of a genuine sympathetic affection. Business had improved with the much healthier crops after last year’s world-wide agricultural disaster, providing some essence of disposable income for the farmers and foragers who provided the lifeblood of the village community. The Crone had even been able to add new products to her shelves after this latest trip to the harbor town.
By Roy Stevens3 months ago in Fiction
After the Apocalypse (4)
Wein's feet did not even touch the peak of the climb as he hurtled over the familiar rise and let gravity help him gain momentum on the steep plunge down the beachward side. Ahead he saw Susswan just emerging from the woods into the gentle sloping field of sun-parched yellow grass leading to the beach, three hundred yards further downhill. With only a few desiccated camphor trees among the well-cropped yellow grass, almost no obstacles lay between Susswan and the beach. Wein needed to catch him before he made it to the sand. After that he didn’t think he could keep up with the thief in the thick, loose going. Recklessly, he increased his stride.
By Roy Stevens3 months ago in Fiction
After the Apocalypse (3)
Cahya raced into a gap in the jungle wall which marked the start of a steep trail downhill toward the closest beach to the village. A flash of beige shirt in the distant dusky murk of the forest told her Susswan had waited for her to catch sight of him so she would be sure of the chase. She was fast, but of all the village children Susswan was fastest, she would need to be smartest to catch him. As she jumped over roots and through ferns whose lush green might hide holes or other obstacles, she clenched the smoothness of her bamboo swatch. When she caught the thief, a weapon would be useful. As she ducked beneath the limb of a young sandalwood tree, she heard a chittering like a monkey from ahead and below. She recognized Susswan’s monkey imitation and changed direction without losing her headstrong momentum by whiplashing herself around an almost vertical liana limb.
By Roy Stevens3 months ago in Fiction
