Drabble 53 – Cosmogyral

Drabble 53 – Cosmogyral

Cosmogyral
Stars by Nigel Howe

I took a day off!

That might not seem like that big of a deal, but trust me–it is. I am terrible at taking time for myself, but last week I decided I didn’t have enough time to post a drabble, so I didn’t.

Most of the time, I hold myself to self-imposed deadlines because it’s very easy to let myself off the hook because of self-doubt. “Oh, nobody’s reading it anyway,” I say, despite knowing full well it isn’t true. At least one person is reading my drabbles, because she hounded me last week to remind me to put it up. (Thanks, Stephani.)

I give myself deadlines because somebody has to hold me accountable. But I’m the worst editor I’ve ever had, not in the sense of me being a poor editor (though I do usually catch at least one typo per post, hopefully before anybody else sees it), but in the sense of me having no sympathy. You’re sick? Too bad. You lack direction? Too bad. You literally do not have a spare minute between work and sleep? Too bad.

Writing often requires me to step outside of my own head. Sometimes that doesn’t mean just letting the words flow and not worrying about my insistent inner critic, but also talking to myself like I would talk to a friend in my position.

It’s okay to take a break. It’s okay to take a day off. Let yourself breathe for a moment, then step back in. The words will be there when you get back. And they were.

Anyway, here’s a drabble.

COSMOGYRAL

(Adjective: Greek kosmos  for “the world or universe” + Greek gŷros for “ring, circle, spin”)

According to dubious internet sources, cosmogyral means spinning through the universe.

There are many things to be said about planning, about trajectories, about following orders. Zareen has largely forgotten them.

Somewhere deep within her belly is a seed of fear. She knows they’ll never find her. These is no rescue coming; they’d need to have left five years ago.

Zareen could panic and draft an escape plan or crash land on a foreign planet and hope for the best. Instead, she leans back, her feet on the console, and watches the stars spin by through the window. She imagines trailing her fingers through stardust, never mind the vacuum. She drifts, slowly.

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