Excerpt from "INDIGON" by Paula Hayes
Drifting, sinking, scattering, Indigon dispersed in the grey dead ocean. White coral skeletons creaked and broke apart. The rusting vessels of enormous fighting ships lay cracked and partially buried in the silt of the fine sand of the lifeless ocean’s bottom. Faint lime green rays ripples over tall stalks from the more upright members of the vessels. Miles and miles of gray water seemed to stretch on forever. Shadows of black clouds cast distorted jagged shapes on the rolling silt floor. Indigon was the only deep color in this drained world. Her ink, her swirling oil and rapturous blue pulled memories of aqua from the universal mind. Time flashed scenes of abundance in to the matrix of the liquid. Indigo pulsated her energetic substance till it grew 1000 times as large and charged the liquid with an electrical jolt. Cold flashes of ocean memories thumped in the vast expanse.
Indigon awoke. She had been dreaming. How long she had wanted to actualize on Earth and now she finds herself in the nightmare! She had been warned.
Of the twelve sanctuaries of Earth actualized after The Disappearance, Indigon, the second, was named after its locator. Indigon, the spirit and sequester of pain and darkness, the rapturous and radiant one. The insecure one. The universal darling. The author’s favorite.