The water keeps rising.
Days ago, it was just a point of light in the sky. Hours ago, it looked as big as our sun. Now, at midday, we are shrouded in darkness. When we look up, we only see the orb approaching.
A dull white ball, with jagged veins pulsing throughout. The texts described it quite well. Every couple hundred orbits, we would "intersect", and it would approach. It looked different every time, but it always passed as soon as it went; glazing horizontally across our sky, they said. But I think this is going to be different. My family thinks so too. In the back of our heads, everyone here wonders if we will die tonight.
The water keeps rising.
Our community is isolated in a mountain range, stretched out from the mainland and surrounded by sea. Hundreds of us, dispersed in a tropical valley that weaved in between. Quite the place, in comparison to the flat yellow terrain encompassing our entire world. But now, at midday, we gather at the tops of mountains and watch closely. We were once many feet above sea level, but now we are surrounded on all sides. The ocean will come pouring in soon.
But me? I fly far out to our highest peak. My elders call back for me, but I don't listen. Our feet are terrible for gripping snow, and my wings give way as the air does, so I sit a little ways down. I look up now, and cannot see the orb's outline.
The water keeps rising.
First slowly, but then quickly, the ocean fills into our homes, our streets, and our farms. It is violent, explosive, and anything but slow. Our plants are flattened long before they are drowned. Our towers hold up not much longer.
The ground begins to shake. Cracks ripple throughout the surrounding land, and those that aren't filled by water released a thick black smoke. The orb grows bigger and bigger, but never seems closer. The only remaining light source is the spewing lava.
The water keeps rising.
I am the only mountain standing. I call out for my father. I scream for my mother. All that responds is the rushing water. As high as I am, I still have to smell the smoke's vile stench.
My body begins to feel funny. I am… I feel lighter. Seconds later, I am weightless. The wind blows heavily, and I am lifted into the stars. I rise and rise and rise. I feel free. I can finally fly higher than everyone else in class. I can finally see the beauty of the red nebula where we reside. I cannot breathe, but as everything is sucked from within me, I can still see. I am falling away from my planet, and I watch as it sinks into the orb and gives way to dust and light.
Why did this have to end?
The remains of every living thing were now scattered across the orb. When the dust settled, the eye was complete. And then your probe came.
But me? I watch the cosmos, in an endless orbit around the planet that shattered my home.
The water keeps rising.
