FICTION

I swam out to my tiny island. At low tide it rises above the Pacific Ocean. It’s my escape from the onshore zombies.

I settled into a pool of water, watching the clouds and ignoring the silent floating buoy. I heard the motor sounds of a large boat approaching . . .

Photo by Moritz Kindler on Unsplash
Photo by Ekaterina Novitskaya on Unsplash

I don’t know where I am now. I’m not feeling myself much anymore. I think I’m in a catacomb and maybe I am smelling the ocean. I don’t think I’ll ever be normal again.

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Fred Ermlich

Living in rural Panamá — non-extractive, non-capitalistic. Expat USA. Scientist, writer, researcher, teacher. STEM mentor +languages. Gargoylplex@protonmail.com