copyright Douglas M. MacIlroy
Chute Malfunction
I fell like a wingless bird into a sea of sublime white.
Come into our embrace, the cottony pillows called to me. We will catch you. Come dance on our hills and valleys. They reached out to caress me, as gentle as a mother.
False saviors, every one. I plunged straight through and the green plains of my death spread out below me.
No fear.
Strange. The novelty of a soon and inexorable end washed it away.
Suddenly, my body was jerked upwards. I looked up at my expanding orange salvation, as gauzy and ethereal as the perfidious clouds beyond.
The Green-Walled Tower 