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Weekly Contest #356
There may have been a falling sky, a field of open blistered grasses expanded by the roiling storm: ashes, spores, drifting parts that fill my lungs, but I have remained blind to it; this world is ending, and I look at him. We have been standing on the edge of one world for some time, on the brink of another. The doorway between these two worlds is a grisly and fantastical opening, and on the other side yawns a vast, jet darkness. Tempestuous winds carry debris through the open wounds of the earth, bringing oily, misshapen roots from the oth...
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