Copyright 2012 By JB Richards
The wall of ethereal blue energy buzzed with electric charge in front of Angie, throwing the world beyond into a foggy hazy, indistinct and ghostly. Angie waited as she always did, hovering a few feet from the translucent barrier. She could feel the hair on her arms pull towards it, feel the strands of her reddish-gold hair waft gently through the air and snake towards the field. It was comforting, in a way. Security, keeping the colonists safe from anything beyond.
Angie snorted, shifting her weight impatiently and thrusting one curvaceous hip out to one side, resting her hand on it. It wasn’t as if the planet was dangerous. There wasn’t an indigenous creature larger than a small dog anywhere to be found. Sure, sometimes someone fell down an embankment and stumbled back with a broken arm, but there hadn’t been a fatality in the fifty-odd years that people had been wandering around the little rock. The fence still remained up, though, protecting against hazards that didn’t exist. Angie knew there wasn’t anything out there that could harm them, but, like the others, she still felt more secure with it up.
With a flicker and a jump in pitch, the wall cut off before her in the gated section. The air filled with the acrid scent of a fall storm after a lightning strike. Angie breathed a sigh of relief, hefted her basket higher on her shoulder, throwing her back straighter and thrusting her full breasts forward, and strode out from the colony.