As the hazy light filtered through the trees I heard the distant sound of bombs whistling through the air and the rattling of bullets leaving guns.
I sit up, clutching my chest. I look around wildly for the enemy, but I see none.
Staggering up I grip a tree branch to stay on my feet and I begin heading towards the sound of war, ready to rejoin my squadron.
Then a voice speaks from behind me. ...
It hit the news station two days ago that an unidentified flying object had been seen entering Earth’s atmosphere, specifically above Antarctica.
A large storm had halted immediate investigation, but now it’s clear.
Unlike the rest of the public I had more access to what was seen, and it either has to be one of the world powers lacking to announce a secret spaceship program or some freak of nat...
Not every child has an imaginary friend. Often times imaginary friends are born out of some level of necessity, to fill a gap. It doesn’t mean the child was abused, it might just mean the child was creative enough to make something to achieve a certain want.
I’m one of those imaginary friends. I’m not a ghost or a spirit, not a manifestation of an angel or a demon, but the figment of a child’s i...
Click!
It came out pristine. The quarreling couple on their backpacking journey sitting more than a meter apart, their legs dangling over a simple stone bridge with no railing whatsoever.
I wonder what must be going through their minds. Murder? They are alone after all, no one would stop either of them. Or maybe they’ll be boring and put up with each other. Where, I wonder, is their breaking po...
Many years ago when the world was still awake, a little boy walked into a forest. Creatures of power and persuasion that lived there tried to turn him away, but unlike the others, he refused.
He found the heart of the forest, and with it the seed of darkness. Humanity collapsed shortly after that, cities destroyed in a wave of endless dark, creatures forming from bubbling and sticky ebony.
Som...
I watched as Oursta rose over the horizon, painting the landscape in shades of white and yellow, blinding the far off city from being seen. I stretched my arms and tail out, lengthening my spine, and nudged my partner.
They stirred and opened their eyes, looking at me sleepily, “Did we make it? Or is there an afterlife after all?”
I smile, “Look.”
They turn and see Oursta rising, “Thank the No...
“Alex.” The voice is clear in my ears and I open my eyes, glancing around the curtain and into the crowd. Many people are chatting, but no one seems to be trying to get my attention. The show hasn’t started and I’m just stretching.
“Alex.” The voice comes again.
I ignore it this time, just some person toying with me.
Then a more familiar voice chimes in, “Uhhhh, Z, I think that might be him....
I’m autistic and I’m going to try my best here to explain what it feels like to me when having a sensory overload, and how I get out of them and enter my happy place.
—————
You know that feeling when you’re driving up hill quickly and your ear drums begin to build up pressure, and you feel like you’re hearing things perfectly fine but with a delicate pain?
If you can’t get your ears to pop you ...
It was peaceful, unmoving, as I walked through the now abandoned and decaying refuge of the city. People were gone, much to my relief. They had gotten out in time, otherwise bodies would have been everywhere... or maybe they all stayed inside and I just can’t see them?
I doubt they stayed.
An entire month in the city’s catacombs is where I had been, exploring, lost, unexplainably not starving ...
