Sarah Cervantes | Unsplash

Suspended in the fluid-postern, Beaux breathes.

First contact was always depicted differently in the stories he’d heard. The optimists promised peace. The harbingers swore destruction.

But here, now, floating in weightless, translucent liquid… Beaux freezes. Not from the fluid-postern — not quite. It’s actually rather comfortable, Beaux thinks, like a fleshy womb.

He inhales oxygen through the mask taut against his face, focusing. In here, it’s as if his thoughts render in the liquid around him, flooding from his mind like river silt. Like he confers words without speech.

Do you understand me?”

They wince. They sigh.

And Beaux hears laughter.

Thanks for reading! ❤ Written in response to Tre’s prompt:



Braden Turner

Gather your fear & move ever onward—there’s always a new story to tell. • Grad Student. English Instructor. Outspoken sci-fi video game nerd.