The land creatures are gone.

When I swim by, the land is devoid of color. All the once-upright forests on the coastal hills lie scattered on each other, like cracked shells left after otters. Nothing crawls back to our shore.  Everything dead has slid down the hills and into my world. The world above is silent.

Silent and stormy. The world above the world above is roiling gray, swirling like the currents of a hurricane; you can see huge swaths of it being tossed and ripped asunder – a murderous ride. It’s just as well the air fish disappeared; there is no surviving that storm for one caught in it.

I’m barely surviving the storm in this world, my family ripped from me. My child was another causality, there was no way to shield her from the vacuuming tides – the family’s bulk as insubstantial as plankton – we were torn, pummeled by the storms debris, eaten. And the water is consuming everything, our gardens lie floating on the surface

I wish I had realized the after it had consumed the world above, the hungry chaos would sink into this one

A flash; and the world above sank into our world; my dead float up to theirs. They have taken us into extinction with them.

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