“And we called them Prometheans”
After ACG’s Microfiction Addiction: Underwater Experiments
Published in
Jan 29, 2021
Suspended in the fluid-postern, Beaux breathes.
First contact was always depicted differently in the stories he’d heard. The optimists promised peace. The harbingers swore destruction.
But here, now, floating in weightless, translucent liquid… Beaux freezes. Not from the fluid-postern — not quite. It’s actually rather comfortable, Beaux thinks, like a fleshy womb.
He inhales oxygen through the mask taut against his face, focusing. In here, it’s as if his thoughts render in the liquid around him, flooding from his mind like river silt. Like he confers words without speech.
“Do you understand me?”
They wince. They sigh.
And Beaux hears laughter.
Thanks for reading! ❤ Written in response to Tre’s prompt:
