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 almost 8 years ago
One of the best I've read.
Michael Cook almost 8 years ago
Agreed, this is great, and the choice of words is just fantastic!
Bryan Thomas almost 8 years ago
Tony Spencer almost 8 years ago
Out of this world.
Kimberly over 7 years ago
Surreal. I sort of like the idea that the mind floats in Zero-G just like everything else.