Take me to a...
Enter any portion of the author name or story title:
For more options, try our:
Sign up for free daily sci-fi!
your email will be kept private
Get a copy of Not Just Rockets and Robots: Daily Science Fiction Year One. 260 adventures into new worlds, fantastical and science fictional. Rocket Dragons Ignite: the anthology for year two, is also available!
Publish your stories or art on Daily Science Fiction:
If you've already submitted a story, you may check its:
Not just rockets & robots...
"Science Fiction" means—to us—everything found in the science fiction section of a bookstore, or at a science fiction convention, or amongst the winners of the Hugo awards given by the World Science Fiction Society. This includes the genres of science fiction (or sci-fi), fantasy, slipstream, alternative history, and even stories with lighter speculative elements. We hope you enjoy the broad range that SF has to offer.

For The Things We Never Said

She fits the god's heart, blood dripping gold onto shaking fingers, into the compartment she'd sawed into her golem. It spasms and then slackens, turgid ventricles relaxing into stillness. Her breath catches against the roof of her mouth, pinned in place by a dry, chewed-on tongue.
This needed to work. She was running out of gods, out of options, out of second chances.
To her relief, the organ convulses again. Once, twice. Uneven palpitations that eventually discover a kind of rhythm, not quite right, but not quite wrong. A full minute passes before she consents to shutting the door, stitching skin over bone with careful, deft strokes. She steps back.
The automata stares at her with heterochromiac eyes, one blue, one cataract-silver, both plucked from a cyclops' skull. It blinks, a slow lidding of the gaze that seems compulsive, not instinctive, a memory appropriated from some foreign neural cluster. The homunculus sways upright, dangling arms and sloping shoulders, mouth drooling black gore.
It wasn't anywhere near perfect, but it was what she had, abattoir parts and a corpse already half-rotted, all she could do with what she was given, and she wouldn't waste time anymore.
"I love you." The words fracture into a little girl whimper, dust and dried salt on her tongue, a decade of things unsaid.
Recognition catalyzes in the blank gaze, just for an instant, a twitch of vigor that quickly disintegrates, decomposing nerves unable to retain cohesiveness long enough to allow for true emotion. The thing that was her father moans a foghorn note, full of an animal sadness, and she smiles, full of aching, full of lonely.
"I love you," she says again by way of farewell, before she takes back the breath from her creation and watches, silent, as her father fades from her life again.
The End
This story was first published on Thursday, November 10th, 2016
Become a Member!

We hope you're enjoying For The Things We Never Said by Cassandra Khaw.

Please support Daily Science Fiction by becoming a member.

Daily Science Fiction is not accepting memberships or donations at this time.

Rate This Story
Please click to rate this story from 1 (ho-hum) to 7 (excellent!):

Please don't read too much into these ratings. For many reasons, a superior story may not get a superior score.

4.5 Rocket Dragons Average
Share This Story
Join Mailing list
Please join our mailing list and receive free daily sci-fi (your email address will be kept 100% private):