We colonised the sun. Our presence here dwarfs all else. We have sacrificed homes, nights, and bodies as they were in the inter-planetary period. Earth is invisible.
Immured in the core, the sun-beasts hurl out flames: tails, snouts, wings. If I open the gates, I will see them: I will cause immeasurable hurt.
In class, we study differentials and the convective zone. Boredom rips us apart: white heat surrounds us; the elders are busy preaching. The beasts are in my head, splintering, bursting, consuming all thoughts.
After the flare, the elders sleep suspended among the rays. I remove the keys.
Roppotucha Greenberg writes microfiction on Twitter (@Roppotucha). Longer pieces are available on Amazon. She is a recent Ad Hoc Fiction winner.