Flashes of brilliant orange and crimson fire; alloys and polymer spinning away into a wild vacuum.
It’s beautiful, really. That last hit was an artist. Fluid in its bright confusion, it delivered an impressionist’s dream.
Inside our broken hull it’s no less bewitching: my blood orbits, the droplets coalescing. Pink shards of bone float before my glazing eyes.
I can’t reach anything. I peel off a charred boot and throw it with all my faltering strength, hoping for some thrust to send me back to a bulkhead.
It doesn’t work. I just spin gently.
At least the view is pleasing.
Chris Walker over 10 years ago
One of the best I've read.
Michael Cook over 10 years ago
Agreed, this is great, and the choice of words is just fantastic!
Bryan Thomas over 10 years ago
Great stuff!
Tony Spencer over 10 years ago
Out of this world.
Kimberly over 10 years ago
Surreal. I sort of like the idea that the mind floats in Zero-G just like everything else.