I have a story
I'm taking a winter interim class called Science Fiction and Religion, and for our final project we can either write a paper or a story. I have a story that I've been waiting to turn into a comic, but I thought it wouldn't hurt to use it for this project first. I just wrote this (while I was supposed to be working on my other, analytical paper, about Hyperion). How do you guys think it sounds? I know nothing really happens (yet), but how does the writing sound?
Here goes:
................................................
They glistened, above all else.
Light from stars trillions of light years away sighed as it touched them, relaxed too fully and slipped off. Reflections crawled on them, sank through if the angle was right. There were so rarely any angles, though.
Movement was languid, but full of grace. The ship contracted, expanded. It was luculent within the Milky Way. A peripheral view would have provided an illusion of tentacles touching luminaries like fingers grasping at sea monkeys in warm black water. Water is an appropriate likeness to the vacuum: how else to explain the way its domed head swirled with surface ripples like an eddy in a stream? Luminescence is the emission of light by means other than heat: for example, phosphorescence, fluorescence, incandescence. They had no language.
Who is to say they had no language. They had no math.
Is contact not a form of communication? Their ship’s extremities moved in rhythm and pattern only organic mathematicians bother to be astounded by, jellyfishing through space in unfolding mandalas, spiraling out in Art Deco arcs with a slowness that was sublime. Between undulating layers of glowcell membrane, they touched each other, merging in a ring like paper dolls cut from a green accordion and taped together at the end. It was energy and liquid flowing through them, although ‘they’ were more ‘it’ when this type of thing occurred, their only identifying characteristic at those times being their individual gellsacks (two in the gut, one in the head) that contained all their structures needed to know. When the light found its way through their outer membranes it made love to these slick globules, diffusing throughout them, flowing like mercury through infinite infinitesimal ventriculars, getting lost. The ring of gleaming squishsacks communed with their jellyship in silent harmony.
Together they moved through space. Then they found a planet.
Here goes:
................................................
They glistened, above all else.
Light from stars trillions of light years away sighed as it touched them, relaxed too fully and slipped off. Reflections crawled on them, sank through if the angle was right. There were so rarely any angles, though.
Movement was languid, but full of grace. The ship contracted, expanded. It was luculent within the Milky Way. A peripheral view would have provided an illusion of tentacles touching luminaries like fingers grasping at sea monkeys in warm black water. Water is an appropriate likeness to the vacuum: how else to explain the way its domed head swirled with surface ripples like an eddy in a stream? Luminescence is the emission of light by means other than heat: for example, phosphorescence, fluorescence, incandescence. They had no language.
Who is to say they had no language. They had no math.
Is contact not a form of communication? Their ship’s extremities moved in rhythm and pattern only organic mathematicians bother to be astounded by, jellyfishing through space in unfolding mandalas, spiraling out in Art Deco arcs with a slowness that was sublime. Between undulating layers of glowcell membrane, they touched each other, merging in a ring like paper dolls cut from a green accordion and taped together at the end. It was energy and liquid flowing through them, although ‘they’ were more ‘it’ when this type of thing occurred, their only identifying characteristic at those times being their individual gellsacks (two in the gut, one in the head) that contained all their structures needed to know. When the light found its way through their outer membranes it made love to these slick globules, diffusing throughout them, flowing like mercury through infinite infinitesimal ventriculars, getting lost. The ring of gleaming squishsacks communed with their jellyship in silent harmony.
Together they moved through space. Then they found a planet.