Snapshot Version A

The horse is in fatal difficulty. It has been shot with a bullet from another universe, a ricochet of chance.

The bullet is bulkier than that which it has hit, but lacks the local
substance to penetrate deeply; and yet it is not insubstantial and has
lifted the creature into the air, distorting it, leaving it swinging upon
the projectile's snub nose, breaking it into its stomach

the warm copula rocks, attached, upon The Earth from which the alien bullet has not quite emerged.

The collision's heat is turning what was flesh to steam.

The animal whinnies, lowering its head against the pain.

The blood looks like sunshine.

Flies and bipedal onlookers collect.

Snapshot Version B

The horse is in fatal difficulty. It has been shot from another universe, a
chance ricochet.

To us, the bullet is huge, bulkier than that which it has hit. It lacks the
substance to penetrate deeply, and yet is not insubstantial, and has lifted the creature into the air, distorting it, leaving it swinging upon the snub nose, breaking it into its stomach, which flows downwards.

The two dislike halves rocks upon The Earth from which it has not quite emerged.

The heat of the collision turns that which was flesh to steam.

The animal whinnies, lowering its head against the pain.

Blood looks like sunshine.

Flies and bipedal onlookers collect.



Lawrence Upton

previous
next