Years of planning evaporate as he turns his back, pouring the fuel onto our desks. He flicks his gold lighter out of his pocket, a bright blue flame bursting to life. The fuel bursts into brilliant flames that dance, shining over the crest on his lighter. two books, one anchored with vines, one speared and bleeding, a beautiful sword buried in its heart, the words "love lies" swirling inside.
Choking smoke and burning eyes. Glaring lights and bright suits. Coughing and flying. Landing and feathers.
Snap.
Panic on a ghost's face startles me from my stupor, there is no pain. I assess her, her stress seemingly doubling as I curiously watch her poke needles and tubes into a deformed grey lump next to me. My brain recognises that the grey lump is connected to me, the drugs slowing its reaction to the information that the mangled grey lump slowly being invaded with tubes is in fact my arm.
Focused ghosts drift around me, their white tendrils flowing behind them as red flies and grey bleaches. Some of them shed their ghostly skin, flowing it around and around, twisting a million beautiful swirls over the grey lump. One of the ghosts approaches me, the focus morphing to a mask of sweetness, of blissful sunshine on fields of daisies, and as the sun shines bright and blue, clouds of dark rolling grey descend. The daisies wilt and ice ruptures the ground, darkness overwhelming the once beautiful world, focus emerging on the ghost's face once again. I fade.
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories
Randomrandom little thingies i wrote. they're not the best but i wrote them at like 3am, hence the title. enjoy :)
