September 1, 2024
adrift amongst the stars i float. bouyed by a current of inert gasses. a gentle gravity wave pushes me forward towards my destination unknown. motes of dust stand in the ever stretching distance between. a cool void diverts me—into a gunk tendril of the stellar morass. the flow is weaker here. im sucked under and have to fight to stay afloat. i claw my way out and onto a soggy log drenched in lichen and tiny tiny insects—an infinitesimal itch envelops. the grand voyage comes to a halting stop. here i am, destination known. a blue-green light casts off the nearest star. my shell illuminates sickness, i cough and wheeze. two seconds ago i felt invulnerable, a cruel gift. i feel a wetness drip and puddle below—am i bleeding? surely not. the trip here was smooth and soft. a trick. i put a leg forward and draw my remaining strength compelling my body to stand. im frail but my wishes are answered. i can hear waves lap the shoreline. specks of sand twinkle in my vision. surely worth a pretty penny back home. off into the distance a figure arrives. the horizon is flat, not a single slope to break it. like a tower in the sky the entity marches near. now near, i can make out its silhouette in detail. the shape is confusing at first, i have to trace it a few times before i can comprehend. my eyes follow its outline from one edge to the next, a furrowed brow helps. my minds eye searches but can find no such being. metamorphic moments past, another new shape forms. how? universal law not applied; a form of rebellion against the singular one. i glance outwards from in; no longer lost in deep thought. the puddle has grown since, my strength is draining, i grow weak. i succumb, i falter and fall to my hands and knees. no! this isn’t how it’s supposed to be, i think. not yet. try as i may but it’s over, full of grit and focused furry—my lifeblood continues drain no matter. a cool indifference to what’s willed. back to the mud i go. the shapeshifter winks out of existence—one final form to say goodbye. lying prone i wave goodbye back.
PART 2
The car window is rolled down and my hand reaches out to feel the wind rush past. The blank stare I had vanishes when I pull my hand back in.
„Where were you just now?“
„No idea“
An honest answer. We’ve been in the car for hours upon end—driving across the country to backcountry Ontario.