I Sit On The Ledge, Surrounded By Concrete And Glass Irrelevant Monoliths And Irreverent Designs, All

I sit on the ledge, surrounded by concrete and glass— irrelevant monoliths and irreverent designs, all inhospitable, all hostile. Featureless as the faces of the dead. Snow comes down like pale, cold stars weaving through chilly air. Flex my fingers, see my breath spiral against cold air, my heart beating steadily.

Cold metal against my skin. Heavy.

Extinction

A memory that wakes me in the night.

Panic and fear.

A midnight dark throbbing; lanced through its dark heart with shimmering pulsing silver-violet rays.

Clouds lit up from above and shivering—shunted aside by unseen butchering.

Singular silent star kissing dark horizon: bathing all in eerie brightness, mushrooming up and outward.

Then, silence. A silent world entombed—

Loudness. Final draconian breath so thunderous I am deafened in a moment. Wrenched downwards, the world flung away—

Hissing nothingness in my sensitive ears—

Half-open eyes to look upward one last moment as raging cataclysm boils its way forward, forward, forward—

Skin burnt and atomized, bones swept away to ash, feathery quills and scaly armor obliterated-

Stone Footsteps

Were these my footsteps once?

They are smooth and graceful. Three-toed strides that move purposefully across a muddy wetland. Evenly spaced talons made cool by afternoon waters.

Did I walk here, in a time long before this body’s first breath?

A gorgeous lake, expansive and dark with deep water, ringed by enormous trees so high they felt like wooden mountains in their own right. Scaly bark plastered with brilliantly bright new flowers and damp moss and tussling clover. A ground crisscrossed by ferns and horsetails, yet alien—without grass..

Have I rested here, in time before?

Watching golden sunrise arch over purplish-pink dawn, gaudy brilliance sprawling naked over still waters. Hearing the droning insects and cacophony fliers, vividly colored like flapping banners. Swimming bodies foreign as they slip beneath silent waves, softy aglow at night; eerie phantoms dancing on the lakebottom.

Was I joined here, who else visited this place?

Giants so might they shook the earth with behemoth footsteps, who made thunder with their cataclysmic voices. Sweeping necks and tails that supported the sky on atlas-backs. Horned-faces and their warpaint frills, tossing knightly heads this way or that, grizzled beaks chomping. Armored tanks slow, dim, but noble in their ignorance; clubbed tails wagging gently in muggy afternoon feedings. A din of squabbling runners in their vain feathery coats, jittery dancing along the shoreline with their woodland gossip. Marching nomads from the north, big like hills, moving in herds melodiously billowing.

——/ malfunction

Q: specify

A: unauthorized symmetry firing/perimeters unsafe

/////— {X} Signature detected

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{X} Signature overloading theomatrix substrate/containment procedure failing, ONYX-SECURITY SOLUTION: online

What came before?

Do you ever wonder if strange things existed before humanity did?

Did dinosaurs look up into the sky and see UFOs; bizarre constellations of soundless, moving lights glinting, pulsing, throbbing? Did a lone Triceratops huffing and puffing it’s way through tangled, mossy Cretaceous undergrowth ever happen upon a sunny woodland clearing in the humid afternoon, and see through quiet, calm eyes a strange silvery creature on mechanical tripod legs? Did it’s snorting, three-horned and colorfully frilled face startle the small pilots who arrived on this foreign vessel?

Did cursed or haunted places exist? Did prehistoric life sense some places were touched by rot, by negative feelings which could turn the air dark, oppressive? Phantasmic possibilities and harmful predatory shadows that would dance and stalk angry twilights like the poltergeists and phantoms of today?

Were there ever any mysterious leviathans and behemoths, vast creatures with impossibly rare numbers, living in their hidden lairs, old as time?

Infernal engines flicker online. Brass chains inscribed by ashen hieroglyphics flash—spark—-burn, roaring with unholy flames, dark twisting tongues howling. Mechanisms propelled by will and purpose defy logical convention, spitefully obtuse in function, clanking in haughty insanity. Clank! Clank! Clank!

Factory might screams, cackling gears snatching at one another like endless antagonisms. Metallic scriptures bleed ritualistic oils: ocher and obsidian, azure and lapis. Tesla harrows snatch. Clank! Clank! Clank!