Idea snippet for my sci-fi book that may never be written
Nearly there. Just a bit further. His legs hurt, everything hurt. It was getting hard to tell if the blurriness of his vision came from the pain or exhaustion. The rapid relief of pressure was making his headache worse, fatigue clawing at his limbs.
The edge. The edge of the trench was in sight, refuge was in his grasp, he just had to keep going. Chris stayed close to the ground, unable to get his body to do much more than pull itself along the seafloor. Rocks covered the sandy terrain, making it painful as the jagged edges of boulders struck his body- potential of cutting his suit which could have hazardous consequences with how far he was from the surface- but all concerns of his safety was put on the back burner as desperation for safety took over.
It seemed, however, that luck was not on Chris' side today. Was it ever, really? As he was climbing his way up a small rocky cliff- one he could have easily swam around if he had the energy or control over his limbs to do so- a rock came loose.
and he slipped. and the rock slipped. and then multiple rocks slipped. Soon everything was falling. and then a crunch. Now he was trapped, his leg was in agony- twisted at an awkward angle that it probably shouldn't even be able to bend. He laid there, watching little alien creatures that he probably won't even get the chance to properly understand swam by with ease, not even batting one of their beady little eyes at him. Now what?
