As I wade through oceans of fog, the flora around me grows. Fish fly through thick skies, their tails splashing occasional mists of salt water onto my upturned face. The hill I make my way down becomes steeper and steeper, until my foot catches and I tumble
down…
d
o
w
n
…
d
o
w
n
.
.
.
Lying flat on my back, I open my weary eyes, and all the stinging scratches seem to fade away when I see the magnificent alien world surrounding me:
Great looming mushrooms replace the towering oaks, which now seem to have shrunk to the size of shrubs. Graceful deer taller than the gilled canopy - with antlers spanning the horizon - place silent steps one after another, fur glowing fluorescent under the moonlight. Glow bugs flit around me, replacing the stars in the murky, flowing sea high above, their wings tickling my curious fingertips.
As I rise, I slowly turn, noticing only now that I had landed in a perfectly circular clearing.
“Who are you to knock at my kingdom’s door?”
YOU ARE READING
Twisted Dreams
PoetryA collection of short stories, poems, and half-written ramblings. ~•°•°-----------------------------------《☆》 dream \ ˈdrēm \ 1 : a series of thoughts, visions, or feelings that happen during sleep ~•°•°-----------------------------------《☆》 night·m...
