Sound
The wind whistled past, the noise almost deafening after running in silence for so long.
Light was too fast, light escaped sound, but Sound was no longer light, no longer careening through the galaxies and bouncing between the stars.
Sound had slowed and now could not escape the thrumming, rushing air as Sound flew past. Occasionally, other things were heard through the wind – a dog bark, a jet engine igniting, garbled extragalactic speech – but Sound moved too fast to catch more than a hint of the echoes before being whisked away.
Sound could not see. All around was the silver-white of the vortex before and the slipstream behind.
Seeing wasn't for Sound. Seeing was for Material.
Sound wanted to see, but oh how hard it would be to become material! To become so slow. Much hard than becoming Sound from light.
Sound wanted to see. Sound could become material.
Slow down.
.
.
.
Slower.