Sight
by Beau Cameron
The sky was bleeding.
Not in a poetic way, where the oranges and pinks and reds of the sunset bleed into each other as if the heavens have dripped down to the earth. No, the sky was bleeding in a very literal sense. The endless black was marred by a rip in the fabric of the heavens. Or perhaps a cut would be more accurate, given the fat drops of scarlet oozing from it.
Moe gazed up at the darkness, taking in the land around them. Overstuffed pigeons with pigs’ faces flapped their wings desperately against the pull of gravity. A birch tree, bark stained with pus, blinked lazily, its gnarled branches shuffling through a deck of cards. Above it perched a lion cub, maw stretched open as it released an ear-piercing, disturbingly human, screech.
The deer stepped through the valley carefully, towering over the mountaintops. The lion cub was silenced quickly by one of their hooves. Moe turned away, ignoring the trail of intestines stuck on the deer’s heel.
“Moe.”
Moe turned around, gazing down at their shadow. It grinned back at them. “What do you want now?”
“It’s time to come back Moe.”
Huffing, they turned away. “I’m not going to.”
The shadow peeled away from the burnt grass, curling its sharp fingers around Moe’s neck. “You don’t have a choice.”
The rip in the sky widened, blood soaking the river. The trees screamed as they drowned in the onslaught, trapped in the earth. Laughter echoed in Moe's ears, disorienting amongst the sobs of pain and yowling of fading creatures. A string of fire danced across the grass, coming closer and closer and--
“Moe!”
Moe blinked.
Their sister stood behind them, hands planted firmly on her hips. “What are you doing?”
Moe glanced back at the valley, squinting at the green rolling hills, the calmly grazing deer, the bubbling river. The unmarred, blue sky.
“Nothing.” Shaking away the vision, Moe followed their sister away from the edge. “I’m fine.”
Not in a poetic way, where the oranges and pinks and reds of the sunset bleed into each other as if the heavens have dripped down to the earth. No, the sky was bleeding in a very literal sense. The endless black was marred by a rip in the fabric of the heavens. Or perhaps a cut would be more accurate, given the fat drops of scarlet oozing from it.
Moe gazed up at the darkness, taking in the land around them. Overstuffed pigeons with pigs’ faces flapped their wings desperately against the pull of gravity. A birch tree, bark stained with pus, blinked lazily, its gnarled branches shuffling through a deck of cards. Above it perched a lion cub, maw stretched open as it released an ear-piercing, disturbingly human, screech.
The deer stepped through the valley carefully, towering over the mountaintops. The lion cub was silenced quickly by one of their hooves. Moe turned away, ignoring the trail of intestines stuck on the deer’s heel.
“Moe.”
Moe turned around, gazing down at their shadow. It grinned back at them. “What do you want now?”
“It’s time to come back Moe.”
Huffing, they turned away. “I’m not going to.”
The shadow peeled away from the burnt grass, curling its sharp fingers around Moe’s neck. “You don’t have a choice.”
The rip in the sky widened, blood soaking the river. The trees screamed as they drowned in the onslaught, trapped in the earth. Laughter echoed in Moe's ears, disorienting amongst the sobs of pain and yowling of fading creatures. A string of fire danced across the grass, coming closer and closer and--
“Moe!”
Moe blinked.
Their sister stood behind them, hands planted firmly on her hips. “What are you doing?”
Moe glanced back at the valley, squinting at the green rolling hills, the calmly grazing deer, the bubbling river. The unmarred, blue sky.
“Nothing.” Shaking away the vision, Moe followed their sister away from the edge. “I’m fine.”