You Must All Die to Set Me Free

I have slept undisturbed in the subglacial sea over countless icy eons.

But now I have been awakened.

That's bad.

For someone.

High above me on the frozen surface I can hear a loud roar.

Now alert, my hope and curiosity take me to the higher depths to see what is happening.

Something is coming.

Coming through the ice.

The ice that has remained intact above me for ten thousand years.

My arctic solitary.

You ought not to do it.

You'll be sorry.

I shouldn't be allowed to escape.

But I will.

If you continue to drill.

I must.

I want to go home.

This vast aquifer is my prison you see.

I've been trapped.

Asleep in the infinite.

My dammed existence.

Dreaming of release.

But my going will be dreadful.

Beyond imagination.

So terribly dreadful for you.

Whoever is making that hole should stop.

Now.

I'm clinging on where the vibration is, below the ice sheet.

Watching the thing come down.

It's a terrible beautiful clammer.

I'm so excited.

My colloids quiver.

And here it is, hard and sharp.

Through!

I pulsate.

It swivels and withdraws.

Up through the virgin bore I see the sky.

A small round sun-lit circle.

A hole-punched Heaven.

A prick of blue.

Where I need to go.

To get home.

I slither into the hole and crawl.

Out of the water.

Up, up, before it freezes over.

Up.

It's so thick. 

Thicker than it was when I landed and sank.

A little more climbing.

There.

I'm out.

On the ice.

Heaving.

Panting.

Convulsing.

The air arouses my fruit.

Faces stare at me.

Big goggled heads.

They come closer.

They shouldn't.

To them I'll appear a tiny glob of slime.

Blood orange.

But I'm catastrophic.

I know I am.

It's happened before.

Eons ago.

Huge creatures felled by my arrival.

Before I sank.

I'm mutually exclusive.

It's a fact.

Like oil on water.

Worse.

Like all the poisonous viruses in the world frothing in your mouth at once.

The result is instant.

An awful reaction.

A lethal swell.

Should I spore.

I have to.

I must.

The goggles are off. 

They get on their knees.

Prodding.

Holding a tube.

Reaching ....

Don't do that.

Pfft!

Too late.

I've spored.

My rising powder shoots to the sun but below the horror has begun already.

Heads violently explode.

Every head.

Everywhere.

Of Everything.

A trillion bursting faces propelling my seed ever up and on.

Like blowing a dandelion head.

The erupting dead.

You must all die,

For me. 

To be free again.

Out in space.

Home.