Original - Futile Response

[sideways]

Title: Futile Response
Original
Rating: G
Notes: I do not own colonies.

You’re focussing on the symptom, little sister. Look for the disease.

Take in city-fires, heatflash silhouettes on cracking concrete, air thick enough to swim through – then look up.

Skim the storeys, to save time. Punch-clock routine and punch-clock comforts, then someone pulls the clock apart to rework the wiring. Breezes set to circulate bliss, bare feet on marble, glitter-eyed mermaids in the water. Fat, fleshy gardens, I hear. Fruit ripening to rotten.

Pretend you can look up to see the lights. Prayer-capsules and god-engines, encoding wishes and wants. Satellite smitings from orbit.

Then look up…

Ah. Now we’re getting somewhere.

Comments

[musyc]

Oooh, I like this. It feels like the prologue to a dystopian novel.

[allekha]

I love the imagery in this.

[misbegotten]

Wonderful imagery!

[sunlit_stone]

I really like this. Especially--I'm not sure how to say it--the rhythm of the language? "Breezes set to circulate bliss," "prayer-capsules and god-engines"... It's wonderful.

[sideways]

Drabbles are my favourite way of getting rid of ideas without having to write an actual novel, I must admit. Thank you!

[sideways]

Thank you!

[sideways]

Heheh, cheers!

[sideways]

This is so nice to hear, thank you; I like trying to find a rhythm with my writing, even if I'm a long way off from e.e. cummings!