This started as a poem but turned into something else entirely. Very narrative but certainly not in any kind of structure or meter – there’s a little rhyming and some alliteration but that hardly qualifies. Good to be writing again like this, and I’m not going to refrain from posting it, but I’m going to mark this and any subsequent accidental prose this month with a hashtag-decimal. This came to mind after reading Rachel McKibben’s Writing Exercise #50, where I replaced a put-down/upon person for an anthropomorphized object and then did bad things to it. I hope you enjoy.
The molecule looked for a change for once,
She had grown tired of more of the same states,
Excited, stationary, lethargy all had lost appeal,
Gaseous, liquid, icy shifts in all its permuations had been tried.Water had grown weary.
First Water had tried steam the old fashioned way, out of Geyser, bubbling excitation beneath the crust of the earth; it was a rocky marriage beneath the soil that set her streaming out and away into the atmosphere, wedlock annulled.
Water took up traffic then with Sky, whose calm detachment set Water chasing after the cool shades of blue that seemed so ever far away the nearer that she got. Water longed for nothing more than to be melded with her would-be lover who deigned not let her get close enough to hurt herself, just outside the realm of seemingly endless Sky lay even colder Vacuum, so Water was spared a pain but given another sort entirely.
Sky would cease to even see her, and Water melted, making a single tear of herself and tumbled, tumbled, tumbled over on a crash course with the World. It was a suicide inconsequential, melodramatic turn for the worse that no one really noticed save for the businessman she would have landed on had he not brought his umbrella. Water clinged fiercely to the firmament of his shelter and though he shook it several times before stepping into the office, she came in with him, oddly resolved to see where this unrequested savior might take her.
He was a false prophet, and Water stayed in a cycle unbecoming, trapped inside that office building, stumbling between states, a cheap trick of herself, breathed in by busy bureaucrats who shared air and all that was in it. Water was pregnant then several times, incubating immeasurate infinitesmal organism that saw strains of illness spread between her unwitting hosts. Water became a shadow of herself, spread thin, grown stagnant and it would be a long long while until she was finally made sterile again and that would only be briefly, via a microwave and a lucky sneeze into a coffee cup, which was the day she made her escape, when she was evacuated by the last host’s bathroom break.
She swirled down, and stumbled, becoming filthy in her jailbreak, crawled lazily through sewers and finally came to be: processed, filtered, extricated of all contaminates, but she would not be ingested again for a very long while. She was shipped instead, to a nuclear reactor, submerging radioactive materials to cool them. She shifted then, so quickly between steam and droplets, it made her dizzy and so she remained until the accident, when her and all her brethren turned to steam and the plant was evacuated as was the surrounding area.
It took time, but animals are not cautious near radiation warning signs, and a small thirsty doe came to lap Water up. When the doe died from the tumors, Water resided within the carcass, mixing with the gases and worked at breaking her bonds. Too long had she worked towards the suffering of others, not of her own volition but it was her cause all the same. She popped off an oxygen that floated ’round the body and a pair of hydrogens that burst quietly into flame.