Adam York Gregory
I saw such worlds that day. Skies of burnt orange and mountains of glass: rings of glittering crystal stretching from horizon to horizon. Seas made of joy lapped at sands of pain and loss: footprints of creatures unknown to me slowly sinking to nothing. All of this captured in the dark of my master’s room, shining from the sphere I held in my palm.
A footstep on a stair shook my rapture. A presence behind me chilled my spine.
The jewel shattered when he struck me down.
Now, in my blindness, those worlds live only in my dreams.
(c) Tim Austin 2016
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See you tomorrow for “Termite”.