The Migration of Space WhalesKatherine Garrison
The lone conservation ranger—a shepherd, crouches by the helm, waiting, flicking shells of Caryanuts into the extractor, turning them into fuel. Cinnamal and toasted nuts scenting the void like freshly baked pie. Puffs of steam hold the ship steady. Pressure tugs at invisible threads of anti-grav until they collapse in on themselves, creating gravity-- a wormhole, out of which pours an infinity of colour-warped tendrils, the smell of berry liqueur kicked up in the space dust. Whale song can be heard in the vacuum. E-minor-- if like the ranger, you can hear colour. Ribbons mirror in his dark eyes, playing melodies while whales drift through slipstream portals splashing watercolour blotches across the expanse. The anomaly wavers like heat shimmering in the desert. The ranger, ever watchful, guards the migration, surveying the cadence of his surroundings. Today, there is no danger. |
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Katherine Garrison
Katherine Garrison is a private chef and baker originally from the mountains of Wyoming, now living in rainy rural Wales. She writes short fiction and poetry often exploring themes through nature, food, the weird, or some mix of these. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in foofaraw, Elegant Literature, Trashlight Press, Baubles From Bones, fifth wheel press's effervescent anthology, Variety Pack, among others. When not cooking or writing she loves going on long hikes with her partner and their dog, camping, birdwatching, foraging, gardening, and being outside in general.
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