Tuesday, October 20, 2015

two objects meet

It broke across Amelia like half remembered static. Was this disassociation? Was this the truth? Was it real? Did that really matter?

She rode out an oscillating wave of despondency and ignored feverish pin-pricks against her skin. She could close her eyes and avoid an unreal study in dayglo chiaroscuro, but she could not close her ears.

Beating hearts echoed across bulkhead and hull. Falling like irregular rain, such soft soundwaves, quiet breaths and pumping blood, skittered against the floor’s plastic grating. He was coming closer.

She could hear his tight breath flow through a ragged mustache. She could smell his desperation, paranoia, his sulfuric fear. He was too close. She would have to see.

He was above her, an angry green certainty in the unforgiving red. He leapt free from his violent perch; she rolled onto her back, kicking at empty space.

At the sweeping zenith of her foot and the height of his velocity, two objects met.

She limped away. He choked on severed nerves, unable even to gasp.

Within moments the carrion men were coming, old meat always gave them away. Amelia didn’t need a neon fit to know.

Amelia gripped her new chiv and made her unsteady way through sanguine light and heavy air.

Other Stories Part 1  |  Part 2
And another One


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