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Posted: Fri Apr 01, 2011 5:11 pm
by Travelin Corpse Feet
She swims across the ceiling, weightless, wrapped in hair that glows pinkish-gold. She looks out the window at the silver moon.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks from his sleeping bag. She has no furniture. No need. Hasn’t slept in years.

“I wish we lived higher.”

“We’re close enough,” he says, frowning.

“I can feel it pulling me upward. Some day, I’ll have to go.”

He says nothing. Just lays back and puts on the sleep mask. Has to. Her body is very bright these days.

She creeps across the dusty ceiling. Quietly, so as not to wake him.

Commentary: This (or something like it) was initially going to be an entry into the Escape Pod or Podcastle flash fiction contest. It started life at about 500 words and then spiraled out of control. I submitted the original in a couple of places but was never completely satisfied with it. It's hovering around 1500-2000 words or thereabouts.

Cut it down to a drabble just to see how much of the story is still there. This is a reduction of the ending, and I think the tone of it still comes across, even if a lot is left unexplained.

Re: Salmon

Posted: Sat Apr 02, 2011 12:47 am
by Mr. Tweedy
I don't get it, but I like it because it appeals to my tragic/romantic streak, which is broad.

Re: Salmon

Posted: Tue Apr 05, 2011 4:10 pm
by Travelin Corpse Feet
I'm glad that the sentiment came through, which is more important to it than the plot now that I think about it. Looking back, I guess the original incarnation was buried under a lot of "this happened, then that happened."