Clodagh O’Connor

Listen to Clodagh read her story

The three moons float in the night sky – they look down on us like the mothers we barely remember. My brother shoves one of his carved wooden soldiers between the window and the moons, snorts at my upturned face, knowing where my thoughts are. Girl thoughts, he calls them – hardly worth the effort of laughing at them.  

All of us girls are treasured – held safe inside our new homes so we don’t get damaged. Our mothers never saw this new planet. I remember us all waking from deep-sleep on the ship, seeing our fathers crying out to our mothers’ bodies standing stiff within their capsules. Captain says maybe their smaller hearts were the problem, but no heart was larger than my mother’s.

My brother laughs at the Captain’s title, says he never fought in the war, never even wore a uniform – just stayed behind with the machines when real soldiers went out to die. Captain says going out to fight was no answer, even if those soldiers were brave. The bombs destroyed everything, the only thing left to do was to leave and seed ourselves elsewhere.

The boys get to go outside, explore, run and climb, see the creatures that live here. My brother calls the cave dwellers “trogs”, laughs at their hairy bodies, their nakedness. Captain uses his drone to watch these quiet creatures as they hunt and play, as they eat beside their fires at night. He shows me how they live. I must keep the drone a secret. Technology will pollute new planets, the Colonising Council said, but they’re all dead now anyhow. I don’t mind lying about something like that. I tell Captain that I wish I could grow the drone  from its thumb size, so I could sit on it and fly far, far away from the girl house. So I could be on my own. 

I hear my brother whispering to his friends – they will capture some baby trogs and make them squeal. When they go that night, I send the drone after them, observe  them being captured in nets the trogs drop from the trees. 

I don’t wake Captain, I just go. The moons guide me to the caves and I hear a new sound. The boys are crying. 

A trog offers me fruit and water, sips and eats when I hesitate, then offers again. I drink and take my first bite of this planet’s food and it tastes of freedom. I feel a feather brushing my mind, a light touch of love from my companion as our minds connect. There are no words, just feelings. In the cave, I sense the boys before I see them. I know now that their cries are for our mothers and not for themselves. I wrap a tiny tendril of hope around my heart and gaze up at the moons.

Clodagh’s prompts were: In the Future, a Soldier, a Lie

Clodagh O Connor has always loved reading. She is currently writing a novel and multiple short stories but frequently distracts herself with internet rabbit holes. She can occasionally be found floating in Bluesky @iamagnat.bsky.social‬

Read more from Clodagh:

The Storms Journal – ‘Dicing with Dublin‘ – audio version on Spotify
Silly Goose – ‘Divine Diversions‘