With thanks to Rosecrans Baldwin
I struggled frantically with the oxygen valve, my gloved hands slipping and panic beginning to rise in my belly. I no longer felt like I was floating a mere cord’s length from the shuttle – instead, I had the sensation of falling in every direction at once, the void of space pulling at me. The radio crackled in my ear.
‘I’m bringing you in,’ said Friedman.
‘No,’ I gasped. ‘No time.’ The valve shifted a millimetre or so. ‘Almost...’
‘Taylor, I’m bringing you in.’ I felt a tug as the cord went taut. Then, nothing. I lifted my arms out of the way and looked down. The frayed end of the cord was floating away from me. I grabbed at it, but it was already beyond my reach. I kicked my legs uselessly, as if I could swim towards it. The effort made my lungs burn.
‘Taylor,’ said the voice in my ear. ‘Taylor. What happened?’ I wouldn’t have said anything even if I’d had the breath. I felt a numbness spreading through my body. For what felt like minutes, I just floated there, completely alone in the emptiness of space. Somewhere far off, a dog barked.
That was a long walk.. or perhaps I should say long walkies.
ReplyDeleteIt's usually used in the first paragraph of big broadsheet articles about Iraq/Haiti/Sierra Leone/Hull.
ReplyDeleteA whisp of smoke rises on the horizon. A child plays with a broken football. Somewhere far away a dog barks, perhaps for its lost bone. 'I used to sell oranges,' says Hassan, 'until the soldiers came. Now I am forced to sell lemons...'
I've done that!
ReplyDeleteI see someone read this: http://www.slate.com/id/2256007
ReplyDeleteHey, don't forget the mournful hoot of the distant freight train! Nothing does mournful like a freight train.
ReplyDeleteHave just giggled my way through lots of your posts again accompanied by an equally giggly and very appreciative daughter. You're just what one needs on a rainy Friday evening.
ReplyDeleteBrilliant; you would have to generate some atmosphere for that.
ReplyDeleteLOL. That is a brilliant example of writing badly... well.
ReplyDeleteSPACE DOGS.
ReplyDeleteamazing.
In Les Miserables Victor Hugo follows every one of your suggestions at least once, and at great length. How did he know?
ReplyDeleteIn space, no one can hear you screa-
ReplyDeleteBARK! BARKBARK!
ReplyDeleteSomewhere a duck quacked.
ReplyDeleteYeah, this is really funny. I know that, because I was sitting here reading it with a mouthful of red wine and a serious expression on my face, until I got to the payoff, when I spurted red wine all over my compter screen.
ReplyDeleteI’m so sorry.
ReplyDeleteMust have been Laika... http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laika
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