jump to navigation

speckle 7 August, 2006

Posted by silentpyjamas in blather and claptrap, little fictions.
trackback

(inspired by and dedicated to Stardust@Home)

the child was exploring. her eyes were so luminous in the slanted shaft of light from the window, the seemingly lackluster brown igniting and flickering with hints of amber and gold. now she was amazing, now she was magical and marvelous. wider they grew. her hand reached, so tiny with those little fat fingers. dimpled knuckles. still so delightfully a baby. one step, two steps, her entire body moving awkwardly, so many years away from the sure steps of a woman. there she was, with red red lips that were curved into the most innocent of smiles. all soft and warm and smell and gurgle, and so alive.

from here, they could not see the ground. they were out there, in space, floating in the world where nothing touched anything except violently. there was no love in space. there was plenty of blackness. they thought it was surreal, this cloak of endless dark. if they were to fall, where would they end up? how long would it take them to fall through nothing? that fear was deep in their bellies as they looked around and tried to remember they were trained for this, and that they were experts. this was nothing like below, where they would fall, even if to their deaths, into the welcoming arms of their home.

she didn’t know them, didn’t even know of them. she didn’t hear them chattering or laughing. she was busy now, her arm extending, so much like the arm of their craft out there, trying to touch something ephemeral. every bit the scientist they were. closer her hand moved to her goal, they too, closer. it seemed like forever in her world, in their minds. it was but a second.

impact.

her hand closed lightning-quick around it. gleeful, the sweetest peals of laughter. she closed her eyes and let her head fly backward and she laughed. she opened her hand, quickly, to see what she had caught. the now-terse voices in space were suddenly silent.

“talk to me. can you hear me? can you hear me?

the child stared into her palm. there, she found nothing. she twisted her lips for a moment in dismay, looked up. instantly she was lost again in the world of tiny floating dust motes.

out in the cold dark, the two astronauts were not panicking. they felt it, but they held it in, because it was their job. when they were pulled in, at the last moment, the man gasped frantically in his helmet, eyes wide with the fear that comes from the sight of death. it had loomed large in that place that was home-but-not-home, and he knew a relief like no other to hear the voices of his compatriots. the girl was silent, she had no time for fear, her eyes fixed on the velvet black blanket sprinkled with spheres and rocks and stars. her arm was stretched forward, fingers half-curled as she reached for one of them, one of the number of diamond speckles.

once her feet touched the earth again, they did not leave. she had touched heaven.

Advertisements

Comments»

1. whiskeykitten - 9 August, 2006

wow. i’m lost, but it rocks. Well done sistah-mine. I can feel the space.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: