Here is another short story for your delectation which was also entered into a competition. It’s actually an enhanced excerpt from the unpublished third in my children’s scifi novel series, Xalata Orbit and Melody Fret. The working title is The Dark Mind of Darios, but that might change. That’s still work in progress and it’s heavy going, particularly as my time has been taken up with memoir writing. See what you think.

How?

By Nick Evans

She awoke with a start and, in that muddled moment, could not recall where she was. Slowly, as she prized her eyes open – why was it so bright? – it came flooding back: she had collapsed, exhausted after the terrible events of that day … but, why was she now standing? And where? As her brain cleared a little, she found that she had regained consciousness, on her feet, in a bright, misty light that appeared to swirl about her gently; a very light breeze stirred her hair. There was little sound other than an indefinable, ‘outside’ resonance that murmured gently in the background, barely perceptible, yet telling her that she was no longer in a building. She looked around curiously, trying to work out where she could be.

“Hello?” she called quietly, not really expecting anyone to appear and, true enough, there was no response. Her voice sounded flat, as though the mists were whisking it away as soon as sounds had left her mouth. She called again, a little more sharply this time – a statement, rather than a question, “Hello!” Nothing, just the distant sound of air and her own breathing.

She peered around her – not actually seeing very far because the mist hid her surroundings, flowing as it did around her. The light seemed to change colour as the haze moved – gentle golds, greys and pinks. It was quite beautiful and she held her breath for a moment as she watched the scene change in front of her eyes. Yet still she had no idea where she was – it almost felt like the outside world and, yes, there were distant sounds carried on the moving air; sounds like a city waking up slowly from its night’s sleep. But they were so far away that she struggled to tell whether the lack of the silence that she had been used to was in her head or outside.

Once again, she called out, “Hey!” a little louder. There was no response and so she determined to move out of the mist and find her way back. Looking down, she could see that the floor was formed of some dull metal and, as she turned, she saw behind where she stood a broad, perforated column that pushed up from the floor only a metre away from her and that disappeared into the mist above her. She reached out and touched it and it appeared to thrum with a vibration that spoke of energy and power.

Looking ahead of her once again, she stepped forward, away from the column, to try to find a door or a passageway in the mist, but she realised that the metallic floor finished with a wide, curving edge about four metres away. She thought that there might have been a step – she was unable to see. Rather than try to step off the metal rim, she followed it as it curved around until she was back where she believed she had started – it was a disc.

“Where am I? Hey? Someone …” She was getting nervous now, worried about where she had been moved to while she was asleep. Had she somehow been taken outside? What was this place and what was the purpose of the disc and the column at its centre?

She decided that the only way forward was to try to find where she could step off the metal plate and onto solid floor so she moved to the edge and gingerly dangled one foot over, bending her other leg so that her foot could go down as far as possible and discover a hard surface. She wobbled slightly as her thigh tightened and her knee took the strain. There was nothing there. The platform appeared to be at least as high as she could reach with her foot, although she had no way of knowing. Maybe another part of the disc’s circumference would yield a step or a shallower access?

She moved around the disc and at each stopping point, she repeated the move to test for a step, flexing her leg afterwards as the strain bit into her muscles and caused the beginnings of cramp. Each time she failed to find any solid ground. Perhaps if I hang over the edge and reach right down I’ll be able to see more clearly? she thought and so she positioned herself on the floor with her legs straight behind her to give herself maximum counterbalancing weight and then reached over the edge with her head, shoulders and arms, leaning forward and down as far as she dared.

Her first attempt yielded nothing. The platform’s metal disc seemed to be much deeper than she could see, but again, she decided to try at different points around the edge, shuffling round the disc without getting on her feet again. On her last try she thought she could see something – a brief break in the haze: was it a step? She reached a little further, her legs lifting dangerously as she leaned … Perhaps I should just jump, she thought and then laughed inwardly at how unlikely that was.

Just as she laughed and her legs once more lifted perilously, there was a more decisive breeze and the mist cleared instantly, revealing her position. The platform was the very summit of a tall tower that flowed away for hundreds of metres beneath her and she was hanging over the edge, unsecured. Her vision blurred, re-focussed and then blurred again as her blood pressure shot up and her heart rate began to rocket. Her legs waved frantically and, in her shock, she almost jerked her body right over the rim of the disc, to plummet into the void below, but she flung her arms back, grasping the cool metal and pulled herself back onto the platform.

Panic swept over her: great waves of terror grabbing her stomach into cramps, making her ears roar with the noise of pumping blood and her eyes stream with tears of fright. Her vision tunnelled, losing all the periphery and, even though she was lying flat on the floor, she felt that at any moment she might lose consciousness. She lay, rigid with fear, for some minutes before she could lift her head, still trembling.

With the mist gone, she saw that she was lying on a plate that was no more than eight or nine metres across. From the centre, the mast rose another forty metres above her. How high she was above the ground she had no idea, but the alarm that seized her threatened to shake her whole body in a frenzy that might drive her over the edge.

She wriggled over and flung her arms around the mast, clinging on desperately as she pulled herself vertical, trying to banish from her mind the image of herself testing the edge by dropping her foot over it. Vertigo overcame her and she threw up abruptly, the contents of her stomach splattering in a sticky mess around her feet and covering her shoes. Still she could not let go. She quivered as the panic overcame her once more and it made her grasp the mast even more tightly, embedding her fingers in its perforations and trying to avoid looking out at the emptiness that surrounded her.

She wept in dread as she realised she was trapped. How had she arrived here? She had not climbed, surely? How was this related to the place she had come from – it could not possibly be inside it? Steeling herself, she peeked over her arms that grasped the steel tube in front of her and she looked around. As far as her eyes could see, there were light clouds that were glowing with the rising sun’s rays. Yet, it didn’t look like anywhere she had seen on Earth.

As she gazed desperately across her skyline, she felt the breeze again. It was strengthening now and she had still not found any way to get down from her terrifying perch, high above the city below. She looked down at the floor, scanning the metal disc for any signs of a trapdoor that might lead down into the interior. Was that a mark in the metal to the right of her? A trapdoor?

She wriggled down the mast and, nervously letting go with one hand while holding tightly with the other, she traced a very thin line that appeared to show a square access point. Yet there was no handle or control that she could see. She passed her hand back and forth in the hope of triggering some automatic opening system, but nothing happened.

The breeze was now starting to blow even more strongly and she felt the chill from it through her thin garment. Now, in fact, it was starting to be an effort to hold on. Her hands were cold and the strength in her fingers was fading as she was buffeted by the strengthening blast. She had manoeuvred herself so that the small protection that the mast afforded kept some of the wind off her, but, as it strengthened, the sky darkened and black clouds rolled towards her, ominously.

She felt horrifyingly exposed and the first splashes of rain began to hit her face, driven by the now howling gale that threatened to tear her from her place of safety. She pressed herself against the mast and tried to fasten her hands behind it, but she could not reach around it. Then all at once, a blinding flash of lightning was immediately followed by the juddering crash of thunder that reduced her to a howling wreck. She sobbed and screamed, uselessly – no one could hear her.

Her body and hair were now saturated with rain and her hands were becoming slippery, betraying her grip on the tower. She struggled to maintain her position and could feel herself being plucked from the summit of the building by the force of the wind that battered her. She slid down the pole, still gripping on, in order to minimise her profile to the wind, but, as she did so, her feet slid away from underneath her on the slick metal surface. Her hands lost their grip and, screaming frantically, she slid towards the edge, her fingers clawing at the smooth floor that refused any friction beneath them. She teetered near the edge, feet sliding over first, then her legs to her knees as she grappled frantically to stay, but in a moment, the wind snatched her away and, as she tumbled into the void, she saw a metal hatch open and light stream up to the roiling clouds from the disc’s surface. Too late!

She fell.

© 2026 Nick Evans

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