The burning red. No. The searing crimson. No. The blistering yellow ochre—the solar illuminator. The great golden pinnacle of creation.
By Paul Stewart5 months ago in Fiction
Note: The italicised section was borrowed from a Google Gemini question. I was watching outside my window at something in the trees.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 5 months ago in Fiction
Six months later, the world felt brighter. Not in the impossible, silver-lit way of the dream world. Not in the violet skies and whispering fields that still lived only in memory.
By Amber6 months ago in Fiction
The hospital doors burst open beneath Clay’s hands. Cold air rushed past him as he stumbled into the bright white lobby, breath ragged, chest heaving.
The highway ran endlessly beneath them. Black pavement. White lines. The low hum of tires against asphalt. Marcus drove through the night with both hands tight on the wheel, eyes heavy but determined.
Clay stood in the middle of Marcus’s living room, breathing hard, one hand braced against the back of the couch. Every muscle in his body still ached from leaving the hospital.
The first thing Clay heard was the beeping. Slow. Steady. Rhythmic. A sound that seemed to rise from the bottom of a deep lake.
Morning came like a cruelty. Lydia had not slept. She sat curled beneath her bedroom window, knees pulled to her chest, still wearing the same clothes from the night before.
The void shuddered with the force of Lydia’s disappearance. One moment she was there. Her fingers reaching for his. Her voice breaking on his name.
The gate closed behind Lydia with a sound like iron sighing. She froze. The world beyond it was unnaturally still. No wind.
Lydia left before dawn. If dawn was even the right word for this place. The sky beyond the cottage did not brighten the way it did in town. Instead, the darkness slowly softened from black to indigo, and the enormous moon faded into a pale silver disc that remained suspended over the horizon, watching.
He held the edges of the stone water font, fingers wrapping on the edges, his lies laid bare. She told him not to ride out, told him there were others younger, better, and his wisdom was needed within their halls.
By Matthew J. Fromm6 months ago in Fiction
