My Dear, Born of Estrella

  Once in a while, a star would fall to the ground, fizzle out in a cloud of smoke, and and dissolve into a pebble of quartz. This only happened a handful of times throughout my visit to this “Otherland.” Each would-be meteor was more breathtaking than its counterpart in the world or dimension from which I was called here. An enlightening turmoil ensued inside that could turn the world on its side, at least from one's own perspective, and cause a stumble, a stagger, a drunken-seeming clumsiness by its beauty, as though witnessing an angel stepping down to earth in full splendor, straight from the presence of God, still shining with lightning about its robes. And then it was nothing more than a rock, not unlike . . .

  Well, regardless of what it was like, it was beautiful to watch, though hardly supernatural.

  I reached out towards the stars, and one fluttered like a butterfly over to my hand and rest in my palm. It was warm to the touch, but not hot. The coarse surface of the thing was glowing a faint white, and smelled of hot copper. Immediately, it began cooling and dimming, but not shucking its rough outer layer like the falling ones.

  Many of these “signs” are meaningless, and not worthy of note. Note whatever you like, however, as it may mean something in the greater scheme, or perhaps subjectively; to you individually.

  It was a dull thing, dusty almost, resembling oxidization-flecked chrome. I took it to a pool of water -not water, but something much thinner, sweeter, and softer- and began buffing it. In an instant, tendrils of roots that routed between my fingers and to the ground sprouted from it and pulled downwards out of my hand. A bark-like coating formed like scales and softly-lit webs emerged from the branches. In a minute, flowers blossomed, glowing with a faint illumination, which then set fruits; new stars that fell not down but skyward, aligning with the others as a glistening speck in the sky.

Excogitation: The Escape

This is an excerpt from a story i've put off for some time. Recently, i've figured out the proper ending and, therefore, am ready to pick it back up. This is where the two main characters, Liam and Ari, share a dream through mechanized telepathy (neural implant).

 The sky became blue, and later turned black, eliminating all light except that which radiated from the fire. She had fallen asleep, but he sat with knees brought up to his chest, and stared at the orange-red glow, sometimes watching shadows dance upon the wall of the cliff or over the figure of Ari as she lay unconscious. His eyes became heavy. He'd never grown tired and wanted to fight off the urge to sleep. Slumber had always been an escape. Now he lived the escape and staved off sleep.

 Images began flooding his consciousness, overpowering his ability to focus to where all he could see was what his mind was showing him.

Walking through a meadow. Soft dirt, moist air, warm sunlight, clear skies, still water. Content. Peaceful. Green.

 He managed to regain his concentration, seeing a soft smile cross her face before the rush of imagination filled his senses once more. And he didn't fight it anymore.

 Their thoughts mingled as they lay across the fire from one another, their dreams merging, feeding off one another's subconscious. Gray turned to color, pallid to vibrant, monochrome to a rainbow array, coarse to smooth, sharp to soft, dark to light, futile to hopeful.

 The clouds floated away, leaving a blue expanse in the void. The Spires regained a measure of saturation about their heights, their branches sprouted limbs and leaves, blotting out the blinding ring in the sky, creating a soft, cool shade. Wire-like strands of plant-life rose out of the ground, wrapping around the trunks of the trees, twisting and writhing as they pulled themselves up the bark. The facility crumbled, falling into a lake where creatures with strange arms -wings, he felt they were called- glided slowly in from the sky, coming to rest on the water. The air moved without a door being opened; a chilling, comforting rush of wind made its way over his skin. Soft, green shards sprouted out of the ground, circular shapes of various colors and patterns reached skyward: grass and flowers.

 The smell was far from the acrid, stale aroma he'd always known. The scents of the grass, flowers, trees, and water all fused into an amalgamation on the breeze. There was something bright about the olfactory response; it was sweet and light, uplifting and joyous. He inhaled deeply just to get another breath of the subtle harmony of scents.

 And there she stood, the most beautiful sight of the entire view, seeming to bring life to the plain in her wake as she walked. Each Spire caressed became a tree, grass grew in her footsteps, budding flowers where the beads of her dress draped along the dirt.

 She looked towards him. As their eyes met, he felt a similar life rise and flourish inside of himself.

 The two minds became one as the light flickered about the motionless bodies containing them.

 The world was alive.

 He was home.