August 19, 2014

“I looked up and the sky was orange. The orange seemed unnatural and so I was weary. It seemed that the orange might grow a mouth at any moment, a mouth so large it would gobble me whole. My ears were clogged with static. I heard tin foil crumpling in my brain. I could not feel my hands but knew that my fingers opened and closed. I waited for the sun to set and darkness to come but the orange refused to diminish. The sun wasn’t visible in the sky. It remained hidden behind the orange sheen. I felt faint in its power. I thought I might die. The sands shifted around me, grainy waves rising and falling, revealing cow skulls and petrified leather hides. The flow crossed the horizon and extended on, everything—even the ground—bright orange. The sky seemed to yawn, then swallow.”

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