The Keepers (A Speculative Fiction)

Written at the end of my sophomore year for a speculative fiction course. The world came first — floating islands, a society below the sea, a small team of pseudo-guardians called Keepers — and the story followed. I've included my original author's note at the end, which explains the structural choices more honestly than I could now. I'll only add this: "Cobalt and calm, it resumed its activities with no second thought" remains one of my favorite sentences. It's perfectly teenager-coded...

The Story

The room was perfectly square, with a tall ceiling and a single set of double doors. Steel and imposing, the doors opened from the inside, yet the occasional gust of wind blew in from a vent concealed by a potted rose, spreading the scent everywhere. It permeated the velvet fabric of navy - cushioned chairs, leaving the loungers slightly intoxicated. Several chairs surrounded an oak table, on which cards had been splayed out, interspersed with coaster-bound glasses of a dark liquid that left its lovers in a mild haze. Each dressed to the nines, they exuded a regality even in the confines of youthful naivete; cheerful discourse spilled from painted red-shade lips, and piercing eyes crinkled with laughter. A chessboard lay to the side, perched atop a carved stand, pieces still mid-play. One of the accompanying chairs was occupied by a stack of well-read books, each with a delicate ribbon marking progress. 

She knew she would lose. A cursory glance was enough to reveal the truths hidden on faces fighting to remain composed. It seemed only fair, then, to admit defeat before being subject to monetary loss at the hands of her friends. Yet, as she took a deep breath, concession moved far from her thoughts, bringing forth the goal of hindering the cocked eyebrow that watched her from across the table. 

The back of the room housed a window of sorts, from which one could peer out on a vast expanse. The view ever shifting, it settled on an eagle eye perspective of three intertwined islands, suspended over a sea of cobalt and foamy white. Scenes from each could be pictured so clearly, it often left an unassuming spectator pressing longingly on unresponsive glass. A sandy white beach laid atop one island, adorned with jewel-like figures sparkling in the light of the sun. Angled slightly below, a bird flitted between the branches of pine trees filled with wisdom. The scent of after-rain could almost waft through the room, had it not been for the sealed borders of the window. Warmth seeped into the pores like freshly baked cookies and joy, cut with the clean scent of cut grass situated on the lowest tier. Manicured gardens rose tall into the sky, reaching for the base of the next island, while tropicals spread a misty hue on sun-kissed faces. Yet they remained focused on excited chatter, as though the alluring sights no longer captured their attention. 

--- Four Days Earlier ---

It would rest gently atop the sea, gently touching the swirling pools of violet algae that lit up the waves at night. Those below the surface had hesitated at the proximity, fearing the water would retaliate again. The Keepers had assured them otherwise, with easy smiles and soft eyes that spoke the truth. The society above was not afraid of the depths, for years of friendship and trade had left them bound together. Yet the placement of a newer Creation this close to the seas was, although a useful proposition, worrisome. If the sea had her way, all would be lost, with the island sinking slowly to the iridescent seabed. 

His fingers lingered on her shoulders, thumbs pressing into the knots that had developed as a result of hunching over her work. Reassuring her as an inhale hitched with the prospect that lay before. The Keepers had rendered a display of the islands, preserved in a gentle domed case. The utopian stillness was disconcerting, as the others peered at her handiwork, fingers deftly working to model a fourth creation, suspended dangerously close to the seemingly calm seas below. Her eyes bore into the island, tearing from a lack of blinking,  inspecting every possible flaw. She couldn’t afford a mistake this time. 

--- 2 months ago ---

Perfection, in her eyes, was the work suspended on the bureau before her. 

A pen-filled cup had been hastily pushed out of its place, allowing for a rectangular slab of apatite to take up space. Rivers of notes flowed across pages trapped beneath the glossy mineral. 

Sighing seemed futile, but nevertheless her chin came to rest softly on clasped hands. Staring at the work, wondering if it had all been worth it, she was reminded of a children’s warning. Gazing directly at the sun would cause blindness. Yet the yellow rays shone invitingly, tantalizingly enveloping her in warmth before fading again. 

The chill swept through the room as the barriers opened, swinging inward before gently shutting back in place. Clicking heels followed a metronome silent to all but the wearer, approaching the chessboard to move a rook before swiftly turning to face the disheveled desk. Softer footsteps followed, casting a tall shadow over the figure lost in thought, shielding it from harsh light. 

It’s time.

She reached for his outstretched hand, slowly standing so they could gather around the window. The Creation began to float, watched by figures peering over the edges of their islands. Her work was perfect. It could be nothing less.

The mass of land hovered above the churning current, as if waiting for an indication from below. As it began to take shape, sprouting hills and lakes, it shuddered, as if frightened. The sea began to calm itself, taking a breath before stilling for a moment. 

It was a beautiful sight; the perfectly calm blue sea, and atop it, her handiwork, breathing life into their vision. This was the Keeper’s purpose, using the life-giving island as a canvas for creation. She smiled, glancing up at his radiant face, meeting a raised eyebrow and small grin. 

Sinking was not a problem for the island. It merely had to cease its struggle. 

Her eyes welled up in horror and fear as she watched her Creation drown.

The sea had a loving embrace, and welcomed the new addition.

A sound emerged from her, guttural and never-ending.

Cobalt and calm, it resumed its activities with no second thought.

--- Back ---

An ornate clock, carved from birch, lived above the steel doors. When the first star appeared in the night sky, it let out a subtle chirp, rousing the Keepers from their games. Slowly standing, they began to leave the rose-scented chairs behind them. A moment of silence consumed the square room, only imposing in the first rays of light, as knowing glances were exchanged between friend and lover alike. Then the beating of youthful hearts resumed as the doors sealed shut, letting the subtle moonlight wash over them.

As they walked out of the room, his gentle hand resting on the small of her back, a warm breeze welcomed them, whipping long strands into their faces. Letting out a peal of laughter, they slipped off their shoes and raced towards the edge. Finally able to breathe, legs dangling over the side, they were met by the tingling sensation of water, reaching up to lap at their unencumbered feet. 

Description of the world and Author’s note:

A large sea separates 2 “societies,” both advanced, except that one is below the sea and one floats above. The Society above inhabits islands, of which there are currently 3, each floating in a staggered manner -- and with different ecologies (not fully relating to lifestyle). The story centers around the unnamed MC, who, along with a small team of Keepers (one of which is a “special” friend), design islands to further the society. They essentially act as pseudo-rulers/ guardians, though their age is unspecified and their origins are not described in this story -- leaving it up to the reader. 

Much of the story is based entirely on the reader’s ability to picture not only the setting, but the characters themselves -- allowing for more imagination rather than a stagnant image. I chose to limit the dialogue, and instead utilize the format of the story (the contrast of italicized personal thoughts and the actual omniscient description). You’ll find that as the MC is slowly reaching a point of possible change (although she does not appear to evolve in any way in the following story), the lines become shorter and switch more frequently. 

The story as it accurately reflects my own imagination, and therefore I believe it to be my end product -- perhaps things could be changed, but that would entail creating a different story and narrative style. While I do experiment with narrative styles, I felt it best to utilize this seemingly abstract yet detailed manner in order to force the reader to imagine the world I am visualizing through their own eyes.