One Grain of Sand
The familiarity of that feeling was almost comforting.
Almost.
I’d prepared for this. I’d studied who was going to be in attendance, I knew their professions, I knew their accomplishments, and I knew I had it all ready to go.
I had worked so hard. I rehearsed what I was going to say about a million times. So much so that on the drive over, I actually impressed myself with how confident I sounded.
But now I was here.
All those faces stared up at me. A galaxy of navy and black business suits, with a few constellations of smart dresses and expensive handbags, dotted about.
And me.
A tiny, insignificant grain of sand, lost in the infinite blackness of corporate space.
This was the final frontier, and I was spinning deeper and deeper into myself, deeper into the nothingness that consumed me.
I was so used to that feeling. The inconsequential. The irrelevant. The pointless.
But I forced my mouth open to speak, and I was shocked at the authority that tumbled out. Perhaps all that rehearsal really worked.
These corporate planets gazed up at this minuscule grain of sand with interest and intrigue, and I felt my gravitational force grow.
By the end, I even had my own satellites. Me!
Was this how planets were formed?
Kat Watson is a professional ghostwriter. She usually writes fantasy/romance, but her main passion is horror. She loves all things dark and weird, and one of her favourite reviews she’s received included the phrase: “It’s a bit too gory.” As a dyslexic Yorkshire lass, the spellings will be British, but the grammar is a work in progress.
This was from a prompt from January by @Zane Dickens — “Approaching the Inmost Cave.” It’s not my darkest work or the most fantastical, but it is a real fear of mine. The imposter syndrome is strong in this one.
