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August 2022 Fiction Contest: Puddle
August 25, 2022
Stepping outside into the blue hell, I raise my head and feel my skin get painted. I’m but a balloon whose string is wavering, forever upwards. In the first one, I see the iridescence failed to see from the ground. Not white, but luminous. Quick adjustment, I become one and float, watching patiently. Where are you? Is the thought of us in paradise revolting? I'm here waiting, lost, but you neglected. The blue hell now fades, the iridescence turning to gray, and gently, I reach the ground with the water, allowing myself to drown in the puddle of my own creation.
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