Leara asks us to finish her story “The Golden City”, written for a previous microfiction challenge by Jane Dougherty. You can find the start of the story at the link. This is my ending:
The Golden City is beautiful, but its inhabitants are strange. They are too pale, too slim, and their voices resonate differently. I don’t understand their language, but I’m being educated. I feel I don’t fit here any more than I fitted in the village I grew up in. Here I am too heavy, move too slowly. I feel ugly and ungainly.
After being taught to speak with them, I find out they are afraid. Their children are dying. Nobody understands why. I realise I have noticed that – there are no children of my age, only adults and babies. Apparently when they start to walk and talk, they start to fade away and die.
Their scientists want to study me. What makes me different? Immune? They probe me, sample my blood, shine different coloured lights on me, put me through strange devices. I tolerate it all. These are my people, these celestial beings. I want to help them.
They come to me, with tears in their eyes. They don’t want to harm me, but they need my blood to feed their fading children, to save them. My blood will give them the immunity they need. They cannot let me leave this room – I am too precious. They will keep me here for ever, held in this machine, safe, sleeping, kept alive through all eternity.
This is my destiny.