Fiction

Open your eyes,
Little cat,
And investigate.
Paw through the dusty treasures of a long forgotten basement.
Knock over an old vase,
Pretending at being a ghost,
Much to the annoyance of your people.

They say this is where the elves live, you whispered in my ear.

 The man gazes out and past the extensive glass window that shows off to him an endless sliver of outer space, daydreaming about Earth while fermenting away in the multi-trillion dollar New Old-World resort -no, priso

It was just dusk when the glass shattered, shards of their precarious silence lying on the tiled floor. 

"No."

There was a boy who lived in the little house just off the highway.
The house with the chipped red paint and the overgrown backyard that ran wild and reckless like a jungle.
It was what the boy liked to pretend it was, anyway.

This is a story I wrote at school in my writer's notebook before COVID happened. The story is complete fiction and has nothing to do with real-life reality and health. Do not think I am crazy considering how weird this story is... 

A young girl in pigtails sat smiling atop her father’s shoulders waving a sign she couldn’t even read. “Save the Earth!” they chanted as she mimicked them with her babble. Supposed “chaos” and “anarchy” brought the happiest of times.

She sits underneath a tree unafraid of the world. The wind brushes along her face, and instead of being afraid that this gust might sweep her off and take her away, she welcomes the slight breeze in by letting it whisper in her ears.

I was taking a walk, admiring the rays of shimmering sunlight through the trees. The sky was clear, a truly magnificent blue. I wondered if I would ever get a day like this again. After all, we can't know what will happen later on.