Warm

They hover above my head when I go to sleep, a million tiny orbs glowing and pulsating, brightness doubling when I look away. I don’t normally use them, but they have this silent hum of light in the dark, not audible but almost tangible. If I squint my eyes, the light splinters and shoots off in thin spikes, trails away and disappears. They dance in the corners of my eyes like stars and blur and fade into an ambiguously directed line, an unclear glow out of my direct line of vision. The metal bed frame looks harsh and raw next to their soft flicker, the bed’s black a contrast to their white-yellow. If I turn my head a certain way, I can see their reflection in the window, as they appear to soar outside the glass, away with every slight twitch of my eyes. A thousand small eyes float quietly in the black of the room, resting their stare on me as I sleep and although I know they can’t really see me, I can almost feel the weight of their gaze, and somehow it’s warm.

Taking Flight in the Night Sky

Mason was well known for not being outgoing and was always spending time to himself. One day as he walked home alone—headphones in ear—he saw a man waving to him. He ran over right away thinking that the man was in danger, but the man just handed him an object that just slid into his hand, so light that it felt like it wasn’t actually there. The scruffy looking man nodded and carried on in another direction. Mason was left bewildered and staring at it, full of creases and wrinkles. Then a gust of wind pushed it out of his hand flying in the night sky, rising and then falling, swaying and spiraling. Meanwhile, Mason ran after this flying object, soon losing it when a few more appeared in the night sky battling for a spot in the night sky, until it made a soft landing on the side of the road.

Knowing What You Know

Round like the sun, but black like the night, it stares back at me. I know such an entity is rare in these times, but it does not know. It seems to know very little, it could know anything. That is its purpose, to know a specific something. It seemed, or rather, it seems impossible, yet, here it is. I think it’s a wonder, a marvel. But the reality is that time has rendered it obsolete. But the beauty of obsolescence is that, doing what I do, it can be ignored. I can use the knowledge trapped in the blackness.

Like everything, this thing has a purpose, a goal to achieve, a message to send, an operation to achieve, a song to sing. It does so in a roundabout, but pure way. It does not lose sight of its own fidelity. This thing however, has a second face, another side , giving a completely different message from the same sender. Such an item, then, purposes a bridge from few to millions. It carries its purpose, its song, on its face, leaving it there for all to see. It is wonderful. It is marvelous. But it is one of perhaps a billion. So it is no wonder that I should posses several. It was born into brilliance, yet knows only the song it is meant to sing.

Dun dun dun

If the sunlight weren’t encircling it on the rickety dull brown table I probably wouldn’t have noticed it. But, there it was, of a creamy, fluffy complexion and poised in such a way that I worried it would lift up and lurch at me. I pushed the small table over in hopes that it might get up and crawl away. It slid off, landed lightly on the floorboards but made no attempt to escape. Instead it laid curled over itself in a state of paralysis. Satisfied, that it was not alive I grasped it between my fingers. Motionless in my fingers, it softly bent to the contours of my hand. One end of it was ripped, or maybe it was open on purpose, but the hole was big enough for me to stick my hand in. The tiny sack had nothing in it but I imagine it would be used for that. After looking inside I realized the magnificence of this object, I could use it for—ugh, what is that smell! 

Dancing Animals

    A deep sea of bright red exploded across the flat canvas. A kaleidoscope of butterflies flowed around the pale angelic being. Snakes slithered gracefully toward the light, weaving through the sea of falling rose petals. It’s high tide as the sharks fall down from within, slamming and tapping and slamming and tapping, disappearing under the wings of cardinals. Snakes are reawakened and begin to dance around the young swaying cherry blossom tree. Tall and lean. Strong and confident.  Then the sharks and the snakes moved as one weaving through the  infinite field of red daisies, stamping and twirling together. The heavens above shine a light on them. Casting a women’s silhouette  into night, the echoes of their fun matching the rhythm of a far off spanish tune.

Changing the Earth

I picked the object up off of the dirt. It was heavy at first, but I adjusted to the weight easily. The shaft was hard and smooth; the bottom was cold. I put it into the ground and picked up the Earth. It occurred to me that with this device I could change the Earth. For the next hour I changed the Earth. I moved part of the Earth over by the great, blue ocean. I moved another part of the Earth onto a grass field as long as the eye could see. I moved part of the Earth next to a tree that looked like it went up through the heavens and kept going. With this device I changed how aliens would view the Earth, if they ever came. My device changed the way animals moved from place to place and how plants grew from their seeds. When I had finished I placed the object back down on the dirt where I found it. It was someone else’s time to change the Earth. 

First man on Mars

30 seconds till liftoff. The first man on Mars. He thought of what awaited him in the near future, and at the same time, thought of how he would be received by his family and peers when he returned. A million thoughts raced through his head, and time seemed to slow down. 20 seconds till liftoff. He thought of his parents, who had up until this point in his life, helped him get this far. He thought of his peers, who had provided support and encouragement through his best and worst points. 10 seconds till liftoff. Lastly, he thought of himself. He remembered the small, innocent, and naive boy that he used to be. At that moment, the thought of his childhood sparked a realization of what he had been carrying in his right pocket and what his father had entrusted him with to hold dear with him for the entirety of his life. He pulled it out of his pocket for one last quick glance before he was launched into the stars. Even in his remaining seconds, he studied it hard. The overhead lights reflected off of its shiny, metallic surface. His own reflection was distorted by the bowl-like indentation in the object. He ran his fingers up and down the handle as if trying to remember the feeling and shape of the object. Finally, coming back to reality, he placed it carefully back in his pocket. He strapped on his helmet. 5...4...3...2...1.

By The Creek

She found it by the creek, the one she was forbidden to visit. Every day she begged her mother to take her to the creek she heard all the stories about. After vehement refusal from her mother, the girl finally snuck out to the creek at the break of dawn. Faint sunlight barely streaming through the dense forest, she stumbled over rocks and roots on her way. At last, she arrived. Tired and out of breath, she plopped down on a mossy rock. A glint of silver caught her eye under the muddy leaves. Curiously, she reached around past the soggy dirt and pulled out a bracelet. It was not much to look at, but the girl seemed drawn to it by an unseen force. She fastened it on her wrist and admired it. Upon doing so she thought she detected a faint voice in the distance summoning her. Assuming it was her mother, the girl hastened back towards her house. Once safely back home, out of breath, the blustery wind whipping against the window she questioned her mother on calling her. Confused, the mother replied she hadn’t even noticed the girl was missing. The girl began to detect faint murmurings and craned her neck around to see if they had house guests. When no one appeared at the door, she was perplexed. Dismissing her thoughts, the girl hurried up stairs to get ready for school. Throwing on her clothes and grabbing her bag and a banana for the road she left the house. Sliding into her desk mere seconds before the first period bell she was certain she could hear people speaking. Casting off the notion as silly and thinking it was just her classmates muttering to each other she settled in for the lecture. The professor enters and the class goes silent. The voices the girl hears grow louder as the class gets quieter. She discreetly scans the classroom for another peer who may be experiencing the same thing as her. Soon she begins to panic. While no voice save for the teacher’s is heard by the rest of the class, a clashing cacophony of chaotic cluttered chatter overwhelms her senses. At last she can bear it no longer. A shout erupts from her mouth demanding silence. All eyes now on her, she flushes with embarrassment. Receiving a stern look from the lecturer, she is sent to the principal’s office. Horrified, she gathers her belongings and trudged down the hall to meet her apparent imposing doom. This is it. The end. It’s surely approaching. She must be going insane and losing her mind. She wonders if they will send her to an asylum. Racking her disorderly brain for an answer to her plight, she begins to feel woosy. She collapses to the floor. Then, darkness.  

The Luster it Once Had

They could see it clearly thought the trees. As the young men emerged from the woods they became encompassed in the full presence of the tower. They creeped out of the woods, into the dirty wooden sea, and around the rusted steeds. As they got closer, the more it towerd over their small frames and completely cast them in its shadow. They surround its worn down territory, one of them on each side. They grabbed a hold of its long limb and began to pound it with all their strength. The limp whipped back and forth, side to side, and around and around as the tower cried in strain, for it has lost the strength and luster. They pounded it with their adolescent fists and laughed in amusement until, finally a victor emerged and the tower stood entangled in its own weighted limb. The victor, smiling with pride, stated, "Dinner will be ready soon, we should go." They other boy replied with a nod, and they shoved off in the direction the came as the evening sun set thought the trees. The tower sat it the dim light more broken than it was before, but the boys would be back the next day.

Basement

The sun was about to go down, and he decided in the short amount of time he had left before dinner, he would finally explore the basement. All summer long, the boy had played in the apple orchard with his friends. This past summer was particularly torrid and the orchard became a refuge of shade for the youngsters. Now his friends had gone, and there was only a short time left before school. His aunt and uncle had been lenient with him throughout his stay, but their one big rule was that he shouldn’t go in the basement without them. He had refrained from exploring over the past two and a half months, but now his curiosity was to the point of almost making him itch.

There were two entrances to the basement that he could enter from. He could either enter from the inside the house and run the risk of being caught by his uncle or try to use the hatch that was by his aunt’s hedges. The hatch was unlocked, but while he was opening it, it creaked and made an unimaginable amount of noise, and yet his aunt and uncle didn’t seem to notice. The steps leading down to the basement were wooden and filled with cobwebs. The basement was musty and humid and it took the boy’s all not to sneeze. He found a light switch, switched it on, and subsequently closed the hatch. A small dim bulb towards the far left of the basement turned on, and the boy followed it. As the boy drew closer to the light source he noticed that it was flickering and much brighter than he originally thought. Not only that, but there were two bulbs and the bulbs were shaped like halos. The halo-bulbs were upright, and the flickering of the bulbs took place in the space inside the halo. The boy felt an urge to touch the bulb; the same urge that draws flies to lights, and children to touch stoves. He took his hand, callused from months of outdoor play, put his hand on the halo-bulb and felt the electrical energy pulsing through the metal. Suddenly he thrust his hand through the first halo, and to his horror it appeared in the space between the second halo-bulb.