Micro-scifi about meadows

4 May 2021

AFTER SEARCHING ONE HUNDRED BURNING MEADOWS WE HAD FOUND IT: A GOLDEN STATUETTE OF A HARE. BUT IT WAS TOO LIGHT WHEN WE PICKED IT UP. HOLLOW. A TERRIBLE REALIZATION DAWNED ON US THAT I WILL NOT SHARE HERE. IGNORING THE PROTESTS OF THE SOLDIERS, WE CHECKED OUR O2 TANKS THEN LEFT THE STATUE IN THE FIELD.

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I yell into the parsebox: please. No response. Hard to hear over the choking roar of unseen fire. Sometimes the meadowsmoke reifies into hard darkness and an operator is struck by a crow or starling. They’re incoherent for a minute or two, babbling and afraid. Smelling salts to help them stand up. 20cc adrenaline to get the body moving, admin’d by syringe. We keep walking.