Running around the edge of an event horizon, static crackling, I never reach the black hole, or it's pulling me in ever so slowly.

After I met them, I thought I'd meet you. It seemed logical, even mathematical, that I would. But I didn't.

And now they're gone with only the echo vibrating, its waves ever-widening, seeking an elusive purchase.

My tastes widened for a while. I found brotherhood in loneliness, soon sought the sun, from one point in the universe to another.

Eventually I heard their songs through the static as a new black hole waltzed my way.

The spinning black blotting out the light like when I was a kid dreaming, buoyant, adrift on the lexicon of physics, where nothing is lost, nothing is without, there are no hands and nothing to hold.


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Galen over 12 years ago

"Yeah, you got that something. I think you'll understand. When I feel that something. I want to hold your hand. I want to hold your haaaaaaand. I want to hold your HAAaaAAAaaaaand."

bespectakate over 12 years ago

I am a little - just a little - in love with this story.

mroshaugh over 12 years ago

Thank you! I am a little - just a little - flattered by your comment!

mroshaugh (joined over 12 years ago)
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Veteran of the 90s zine revolution.
Spreading myself thin over blogs, Twitter, FB, etc.
Favorite authors include David Markson, Lydia Davis, Robertson Davies, Donald Barthelme and Richard Brautigan.

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Creative Commons Attribution 3.0


Music fiction music science


Lost, without a hand to hold.
Prompt suggested by b23cml


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