by Andrew Yorke
‘Tranquility Base here. The Eagle has landed.’
Oxygen flooded the room. The young woman felt her seed gently move around the nest.
As the young men emerged, setting foot on the surface, the young woman's mouth opened wide with excitement. She felt butterflies envelope her entire body. She looked at others around her. Their butterflies moved vigorously as well. Instinctively, she let out a young child's laughter.
All felt young, including the seed nested inside the young woman.
Echoes
THE NEW WORLD was vast and full of opportunity. A microscopic seed felt nothing but warm sensations thrilling its entire presence. He saw nothing but absence. He heard nothing but silence. The seed discerned no detail.
Time relatively progressed.
The seed felt his world become smaller and more definable. Tingling sensations ebbed and flowed throughout his entire presence, and new objects were felt. He was unable to determine from where the objects came or what they were supposed to do. Curiosity began its gradual orbit around the new world. He still saw nothing but absence. He still heard nothing but silence. The seed discerned little detail.
Time relatively progressed.
New objects appeared to the growing seed. He felt them nearby, almost on top of him. Objects already felt had increasing sensation. The seed's growing curiosity reached its first climax. He perceived that the objects moved with intent. He now understood that the objects depended upon him. Still, he saw nothing but absence, heard nothing but silence. The seed demanded further detail.
Time relatively progressed.
The new world was older and smaller. The growing seed felt a strange and new sensation. Vibrations permeated his atmosphere as he continued moving his increasingly-defined limbs. It soothed his curiosity. He saw very little absence, hearing anything but silence. The seed felt new shades of detail.
Time relatively progressed.
The vibrations became clearer, with specific timbre, and the growing seed defined them as secure. Curiosity blossomed during this period. The darkness he witnessed so many times before gradually relaxed into different shades of grey. Occasionally, he observed clouds of something unknown. The seed used his now-familiar limbs to touch the atmosphere of his world. He felt the textures and sensations around him. They bore no discernible origin. He knew, as the environment grew smaller and more definable, that his world simply existed.
Time relatively progressed.
The world began its claustrophobia as the growing seed observed the repetitions of his life. Curiosity became double-edged. Some moments, he would feel the excitement of his limbs moving about. Other moments, he would feel the atmosphere closing in. When irritation surpassed curiosity, he would attempt to push his way out of the static world. He was ready for something new. Still, he felt the warm, resonant tones surround him, as foreign to him as familiar. The sounds would become his best friend.
Time relatively progressed.
The growing seed awoke from boredom to the sounds of something unfamiliar. His world began to move, his limbs grazing the atmosphere. He could hear unknown tones resonate throughout, and the tingling of curious fear began. This was the feeling of the unknown. He knew this feeling from a moment long ago.
The tones outside grew louder. The atmosphere began to shake and shudder. The growing seed's anticipation peaked alongside curiosity and fear. His limbs held tightly to themselves; his eyes blinked rapidly. Flickers of light surrounded the world as he felt one final, climactic shudder.
An innocent cry echoed against the walls.
Sharon Tate
WRITTEN BY Andrew Yorke
EDITED BY Jonathan Fischer
XL-001
1st edition. Published by xteamartists, LLC.
© 2012 xteamartists, LLC. All Rights Reserved.
xteamartists.com
This work may not be duplicated, modified, or distributed without written permission from the publisher.
