Remote

 

At first, it was the dreams. Shared ones.

Each night, we wandered the same submerged city: stone arches, glowing glyphs, a hum like breath beneath the sea. We compared details in the morning. Names none of us remembered. Symbols we couldn’t translate.

Then Jamie vanished. One moment she was cataloging coral samples; the next, just gone. No footprints. No splash. Only her notebook, pages soaked and half-erased.

That night, the city in our dreams felt closer. We didn’t float above it anymore; we walked its streets. And the humming grew louder.

By the end of the week, the tides never receded. Trees bowed toward the sea. Our equipment rusted overnight. I swear the horizon moved.

Now, only two of us remain. But in the dream last night, I saw Jamie. She was writing something on the wall in a language I almost understood.

The sea is calling.

And I think tonight… we walk deeper.

***

154 words

I don't know what's going on here honestly. The idea of "remote" made me think of an island, then... scientists studying on the island, then a strange shared dream? I'm tempted to cut this down, add more description, and make it a prose poem.