All in Fiction

At the edge of the purple, the Moon seemed to hang just overhead. Half full, the white side sagged low, like a bowl full of water. ‘Wasn’t it unusual for the moon to still be out, now?,’ she thought. Thinking about it now, she couldn’t remember when she’d last seen the moon and the sun sharing the same sky. Something about the idea seemed perverse, as if it defied understanding.

We’d wondered, for so many a night, what it meant. Something was still going on inside, that much would be sure. Soon, the cracks would start to show, and drop by drop this whole thing would come apart, the land returning to how it was. That was all well and good with me too. I knew it would happen eventually, as all things do, but for now something kept it going.

Sometimes, when I stand in the same place for a long time, I get so accustomed to it that when I move again I get lightheaded. I become aware of my clothes on my skin, in particular any loose threads brushing against the hair of my arms and legs, the feeling of my muscles flexing and relaxing, hard and soft at once.

The fog came in like the tide, slow and unassuming. At first he thought it was just a cloud, passing the office window. Of course, it never passed. It just stood there, foreboding, as if it was the norm. As if it would never leave. He had looked down the long corridor, and saw it wash across the windows at the end, his only source of daylight, gradually blotting out the sun, until they were fully submerged.

It had come to her out of nowhere, a butterfly of a thought that drifts past you and lands on your nose, sprinkling some scales like pollen in its wake. Scales to seeds, taking root, under the current, slipping into your subconscious until it was so ubiquitous to be original.

One cold Winter morning, I stood waiting for the bus. The Sun was low in the sky, having only just risen a half hour ago, and would set only a few hours from now. Stripes of clouds drifted in the air, stretching but never losing their shape. I was bundled up, but still felt the cold slip under the cuffs of my pants around my ankles and the chill on my back.

From the top of any crane in the city, you can see another. Practically from every base, too, but certainly from every top. They have to be; the tech works best with line-of-sight.

The evergreens here were taller than those back home, she thought. They stretched up towards the sky, becoming long & spindly by the tree tops, swaying only gently in the breeze. She wondered how they managed to stay so strong, being as slight as they were.

It started innocuously enough, as most of my projects did. A friend of mine crashed their drone into the lake, presumed dead. Just a small consumer model, all stock. Once we fished it out, water had run to the motherboard, shorted everything. He said it was done, and that I could have it.

I first saw it in a dream. At least, I thought it was a dream. I’m not sure how I would’ve gotten on a boat otherwise. The quivering lights, on the horizon, drifting and shifting, a mirage on the bay, towards the harbor. A flying fish leapt from the salty spray to watch me before returning to sleep in the deep.

It is said that perhaps we know as little about the densest forests on Earth as we do as the bottom of the oceans. The seas, with their gradual abyssal wonder, contain many vast secrets, but that within the light is mostly subject to human scrutiny. While the condition is not nearly as drastic as in the great depths under the waves, the forest floor too contains much to be discovered. 

In the city, it never gets dark. Not truly. On nights like this, in the fog, the lights bleed across the sky, watercolor grey, spilling out over the silence. Dapple dances across my apartment wall. A car drifts into the good night on the street below. I am restless. The light fills me with an intense energy, something ethereal and concrete, my very molecules vibrating, never-ending.

The simple tools must be abandoned. They had served to help assert the tertiary position of man but would offer no further push. To truly put man in a new pantheon, they had to lose more as well.

As the last drop of the Sun fizzled beyond the veil, I looked around for a sign. A cricket chirped in the grass far away. I had nothing. All things grey on the sunset side of the Earth.