We the Hereby
Time burns. Melts away our youth, wastes our resilience in vain effort, clawing toward ... what? What our progenitors knew in the gut, now head, came screaming, then stilled, assuaged by ice, chilling the ravages of heat, spinning, compression. Slowly, we emerged along rigid tracks, timeless, anew. We the hereby, outside time. We burn no more.
My own contribution to T Van Santana's 2nd Monthly Nanofiction Bonanza.
Fifty five words exactly.
July 2016 theme: your parents have selected you to be frozen