The Derwent



And it was if a fog had been lifted from the chasms of the cornea.

An amphibious creature with green orbs for eyes and a chirp like no other ambled loftily on the edge of the Derwent waiting for a reaction…they stood motionless, petrified of the possibilities.

Hyenas and Vultures scuffed around on the far bank with intent. The air was electric.

Time passed in stalemate, a distinct lack of pieces and an understanding of the rules; the planets continued on their path into oblivion and another black hole swallowed up the night sky with glee and gusto.


Surrounded by a wall of gorse, the Lutrinae perched on a tuft of pampas surveying the mountains across the valley waiting for a sign from the gods, but it never came. Signs are for fools and the doomed.

The water seeped into the folds of skin and fur, defying logic.

What came next was laid out in the stars.


The light shifted slightly to the left, and beyond the shade of the frog laid a pebble; a slight indent breaking up its perfectly spherical shape crowned the top. A vision of geological wonder


The water separated as Moses bade the red sea but no act of god made it possible, merely the fusion of atoms.

The nuclei from the mouth of Aristophane himself





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