fifty six: the white sky

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Y/N's POV:

The sky was white.

I tried to think back, to remember its original colour – because I know it definitely has not always been white.

But I couldn't. I couldn't remember what colour the sky was. It wasn't always white, was it?

It's not very exciting – rather blinding, actually. I hadn't realised that before, if the sky has always been white.

I feel like I would have done, it's rather difficult to miss.

The sky is white, and I am on a cliff.

The cliff, I realise, is covered in grass. The air swept through it, weaving its way around the different blades.

Although, I have never seen grass like this before. I wasn't aware red grass existed.

Its crimson colour was striking, a stark contrast of the white sky above it. They bounced off of each other like polar opposites coming into contact, and refused to blend.

It was stunningly beautiful, so much so I felt bad for standing on it.

And then I was thinking back to the sky.

Why was it so bland? It was just one whole colour – nothing stood out of it, or made it any more intriguing.

The only interesting thing about it was the question of why it wasn't more intriguing. I feel like something as large such as the sky, should be more interesting. Nicer to look at, perhaps.

But this above me didn't do that.

It made me sad.

The wind continued to sway through the grass, and upon looking down I realised, I had no shoes on.

I was standing bare foot on this grassy cliff, and yet, I couldn't feel the grass between my toes.

I felt no existence of earth under my feet; almost as if I was standing on nothing. Was that normal?

Confused, I took a step back.

But I still felt nothing from under me, and instead, it brought forth a voice.

"Y/n!"

Someone, somewhere seemingly far off, was calling out for me. I couldn't see them, and I couldn't place the voice – but I knew I knew it. Somehow, I know have some sort of connection to the voice.

I just don't know how.

And then it sounded again.

"Y/n! Please don't leave! Do not leave me!"

My surroundings were blurred, and the distance was foggy. I had absolutely no idea where I was, and who the fuck was calling out my name.

My name.

That's my name.

How do I know that, but I don't know the colour of the sky?

It came again. "Do not fall over the edge!"

Edge?

Emerging from the fog, came a figure. They were running, and fast. Fast, and right at me.

I took another step back, frightened.

"Y/n! Don't take another step back!"

Their words were so jumbled and blaring, everything they said became incoherent.

I could hear everything they were saying, but it made no sense. The wind was deafening, my ears were pounding, and without realising it, I took another step back.

𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫 {𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐭 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫}Where stories live. Discover now