Summer, had a Blogfest and my computer pulled the plug on the world.
However, Summer is working hard to make me think about what I want to say, and how to say it. For which, I thank her greatly.
This is experimental writing.
Something disturbed the thick surface. Distinct ends broke free, rose and fell. With each movement, putrid gas popped in time to muffled plops. Ecstatic desperation followed hopeless recovery.
Dorothea stared. She gripped bony fingers tight to the strap and the bag. Unnecessary for a thousand speculative walks, she mentally inventoried the contents. While her heart rose, her steps careered. The green slimed rock slipped under her, the unctuous sand clung. Dorothea fell. Gloved-hands deeply mired, she kept her face high enough to prevent damage. Sweat dripped from her brow, tears leaked relief.
Her suit hummed to life. Dorothea hugged it to her, while it protected her from harm.
More cautiously, she approached the unstill life, writhing against the inevitable. Huge, the creature was longer than both her hands. Astounding.
Dorothea dug into the flatulent fluid. Pushing and pulling against chemical elasticity, she released the specimen. Hugging it to her heart, she reached to locate the Tephrosic miasma. She sprayed.
As the agents worked, the green filth dripped to the floor. Red-eyed in its helmet of grey, each lined scale reflected the sheen of rainbowed sunlight. It became motionless. Drawn to do or die, it was doomed to glare regretfully.
Dorothea ran her fingers across fins, under gills, over heart and down the lateral line to where the milt sack bulged. She raised it high, nose to nose. Steaming streams of condensed air enshroud the static one she held in stasis. Dorothea smiled. Lips to lips, she whispered, “It’s a secret.”