Prateek Joshisteep questions carry a depth as well as a burden.
Lokinne, humble sunny halflingsleep paralysis seems to be a side effect of reading paragraphs from old books out loud
#lokinneart #musingsfromthe8thvoid #art #digital #ghost #urbangothic #skull
the light doesn't work when the switch is on. across the room the mirror shows an infinite place. repeating main rooms folding one over the other. their reflection has no eyes, only teeth behind the tired eyelids. it's mouth drops open and it's eye stares. the light comes back.
+This is it, where they woke from.
The person points to the valley, to the river that crosses it and the little towns at your feet. The early night breeze rises around. You hide a shiver. The valley is too big to cradle anything comprehensible.
-Who?
They put their hands in their pockets and shrug.
+You'll know.
Will O' The Wisp are residual negative images crafted by our minds, reflections from otherworldly lights burned in the back of our eyelids until we can't follow them to the next dimension
they hum and cackle from the cracks in the wall. inviting. luring. expecting. muffled by the sound of the washing machine. you keep drinking the tea in silence and focus on the screen before your eyes. it's better to ignore them at all
it runs along the highway, chasing cars, not fast enough to be fully seen, only felt. the moonlight reflects fragments of the fur, the scales, the smoke, the void. at least if it moved only between three dimensions it could be processed
there are hills that are perfect to watch the stars because they are so dark. and quiet. and surrounded by dried plants that reach your hips, you thank that they are dark enough to block your vision. you can sense them, however, watching and waiting, too.
you walk down the fifth aisle in the store but you can't find what you want. all aisles look the same. there's no one around to ask. the lights flicker. there are no windows. when you stop you catch a glimpse of it in the corner of your vision. you really don't need the noodles
there's gurggles and hushed words in the backyard. it's past dinner time and some scraps of food rest in the kitchen counter. in silence, you leave them at the doorstep without looking up from your socks. they will be grateful