Horizon of Salmon

It was a quiet day.

Well, it was a quiet afternoon.

It was a period of time that was between morning and evening, coming close to twilight, although it may as well have been anyway, but that was the time in which this bit of text takes place.

There was a thing, there was a land, there was a thing and a land and there was a thing that was not a land but something else entirely, although usually it would be associated with the land.

There was a peace, there was a quiet and there was something that could not easily be perceived from a distance.

Those that were around were getting on with their business, doing whatever they needed to do in order to keep on going through the day. Some were relaxing, some were working, and some were playing around, enjoying their lazy afternoon for they did not need to either relax or work.

The space was open around this particular area.

The sky was a lazy blue, with few clouds passing by in the sky above the area in question.

The horizon was in clear view and due to that false sense of security of it always being easy to see, there was a false sense of security that betrayed the area in question.

The afternoon passed and soon the sun deemed it necessary to set and reach another part of the earth with its glorious light. The colour cast upon the sky drew the blue back to be replaced with hues of orange and red as it crawled from the sun and outward like a cloth being drawn over a light to recast its altering of tone.

A sound could be heard coming from somewhere beyond visibility that was unfamiliar to the area in question. It was not exactly unpleasant, but it also was something not appreciated by the people of the area in question. As it grew from barely audible to something faint yet distinct it grew into a sound quite bothersome, for there was no frame of reference that could be used for placement. The people wondered as to where it was coming from, but the horizon was only considered in jest, for if something had been coming from there, then the people surely would have seen the source.

But of course as they did not give the horizon a serious consideration, they blindfolded themselves and let what was approaching fast engulf them. Slowly, yet surely, what seemed to be a torrent of salmon in the air began appearing from somewhere in front of the sun, somewhere from the clear view of the horizon. As the size of the fishy mass grew, it appeared that it gained speed as indeed it was.

The horizon was not the horizon the people were familiar with; instead, it was a horizon of salmon, rapidly approaching the area in question, somehow propelled forward with no real explanation. The salmon themselves seemed confused. There was nothing to throw them and they remained suspended, travelling faster than they would in water. Yet as they tumbled through the air, they did not seem to be starved of their environment.

When the people began to notice, the salmon already had too much speed to allow for the area in question to be evacuated.

The salmon came and the area in question was engulfed. The rich scent of fish could be felt as much as the salmon forcibly being pushed through whatever was not the earth itself. the event was almost as sudden as it had ended, yet for those affected it was something that lasted far longer than eons.

The salmon passed and the area in question had all of its architecture leveled. No one had passed on like the clouds and it was not long before their lives resumed, but the horizon was now something for which they had a strong paranoia.

That paranoia would eventually become something forgotten, but the unease for the horizon would still remain as a lingering feeling difficult to place.

The horizon of salmon would too be forgotten. Yet it was something that need to be remembered, for forgetting only begat preparedness.

About Stupidity Hole

I'm some guy that does stuff. Hoping to one day fill the internet with enough insane ramblings to impress a cannibal rat ship. I do more than I probably should. I have a page called MS Paint Masterpieces that you may be interested in checking out. I also co-run Culture Eater, an online zine for covering the arts among other things. We're on Patreon!
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