Grapefruit-Red

6337 3 0

~Written 2021/6/3, in a mood that can only be described with the below

The woman woke up with a start— or, something like one. This was markedly different, something more akin to the way smoke wafted up from a candlewick once it was lit. Smooth, steady, but coming suddenly and unwillingly into existence. She wondered why she was unwilling, yet she could not remember. In fact, she could not remember much of anything. She raised her head from what she had assumed to be the floor— it was, after all, hard, cold, and steady. But now she saw that the latter, at least, was entirely untrue. She was floating on a mishapen collage of checkered tiles in what she could only describe as an ocean. If she were to use more words, she would note that this ocean was entirely unlike what she was told oceans were like.

Whatever liquid surrounded her was entirely opaque, and arranged itself in thick, mesmerizing patterns of yellow, purple, pink, and grapefruit-red which pushed and swirled between one another. No matter how closely these colors appeared to intermingle, they never mixed— maintaining clear boundaries no matter how small their territories. She observed as they slowly yet surely continued about their pushing and twirling as if she wasn't observing—  though she wondered if the opposite was true, and if these liquids were putting on a show for her.

She decided to take a moment away from the dancing colors, and brought herself to look upwards. The sky above her was pink, and hazy— she thought for a moment that she spotted a cloud, but it was no more than a fleck of dust settled on an eyelash. She was disappointed with this, and cast her gaze towards the horizon, instead. Here, where the pink sky met with the multicolored ocean, it reddened and melted to join its liquid brethren as grapefruit-red. She could not tell how far away the sky melted to join the ocean— or if this wasn't simply an illusion— but she figured that something could be gained by travelling towards it. She thought that she might use her hands as oars and row towards the horizon— but, she was in no rush. She sighed and laid on her side, watching the liquid performance before her.

After all, if she couldn't remember, whatever lay beyond couldn't be that important, anyway.


Support Incaseofgrace's efforts!

Please Login in order to comment!