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Yesterday morning I woke up to discover that the air had taken on all the proportions of water.
I was forced to swim out of my bed against the current - I had woken up later than my family and the traffic seemed to be flowing my way. I managed to force my way through, but eating breakfast was a significant challenge. The cereal refused to stay in the bowl and the milk started to mix with the air, floating through it to make complex patterns. Fortunately my puppy, who is quite adept at doggy-paddling, managed to drink it all, but I almost made a complete mess of the walls and ceiling.
Of course all my normal clothes suddenly felt significantly heavier, weighted down by the heavier air, so I was forced to swim to a makeshift store down the road where I bought clothes made entirely of scales. Feeling much more comfortable I hitched a ride home in a passing submarine.
The entire world looked incredible, the trees' branches moving slowly and languidly, leaves drifting away rather than falling. Everything looked brighter, shinier, including the sun, but somehow less sharp. Animals pulled their owners along on leashes and you could hover comfortably to watch television.
There was total bedlam at the cinema, where people were swimming over the heads of the ticket collectors rather than buying tickets. Each theatre was filled with laughter, people able to swim as close to or far from the screen as they wished.
Suddenly, at five p.m, I heard a strange and almighty roar of drainage. Slowly the air changed from thick to its normal thinness, and we all drifted back down on our feet, slightly saddened by the sudden end to the madness.
Green Queen
I was forced to swim out of my bed against the current - I had woken up later than my family and the traffic seemed to be flowing my way. I managed to force my way through, but eating breakfast was a significant challenge. The cereal refused to stay in the bowl and the milk started to mix with the air, floating through it to make complex patterns. Fortunately my puppy, who is quite adept at doggy-paddling, managed to drink it all, but I almost made a complete mess of the walls and ceiling.
Of course all my normal clothes suddenly felt significantly heavier, weighted down by the heavier air, so I was forced to swim to a makeshift store down the road where I bought clothes made entirely of scales. Feeling much more comfortable I hitched a ride home in a passing submarine.
The entire world looked incredible, the trees' branches moving slowly and languidly, leaves drifting away rather than falling. Everything looked brighter, shinier, including the sun, but somehow less sharp. Animals pulled their owners along on leashes and you could hover comfortably to watch television.
There was total bedlam at the cinema, where people were swimming over the heads of the ticket collectors rather than buying tickets. Each theatre was filled with laughter, people able to swim as close to or far from the screen as they wished.
Suddenly, at five p.m, I heard a strange and almighty roar of drainage. Slowly the air changed from thick to its normal thinness, and we all drifted back down on our feet, slightly saddened by the sudden end to the madness.
Green Queen
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