Tag: Illusion

Cursed City

https://pixabay.com/photos/armageddon-destruction-apocalypse-2546068/

Fifteen years since she had fled the city, a child in a handful of refugees with nothing to feel but pain. Child or not, that last view of the city had been burned into her memory as surely as the real fires had marked her face. She frowned, old scars pulling tight; surely it should look different by now.

The burned out buildings shot twisted iron fingers toward the sky, and the asphalt beneath her feet had melted and cooled into a strange, urban desert floor. The ruins were earily silent, the cracked walls devoid of even the smallest sign of life. She shivered, glancing back at the overgrown countryside, and faltered. The boundary was too clean, too clear.

It had been a mistake to come here; they had warned her, but she had been so sure of herself. Fire leaped suddenly around her, crackling, roaring angrily. The scent of smoke choked her airway, and her coughs joined disembodied screams and shouts that assaulted her from every direction. Despite the flames, her hands numbed with cold, and every cough spewed white mist from her lungs.

Just as suddenly the ruins were empty again beneath the blazing August sun. She turned and fled.

The Glass House

https://pixabay.com/photos/mystical-castle-building-mysterious-4854108/

It was a house like every other. Brick walls, stone trimmings, wooden doors, and shingles roof. At least, that what everyone saw during the day. A nice, ordinary dwelling, if a little old-fashioned and pretentious.

The moon told a different story. Bricks and boards gleamed, reflecting the soft rays with a greenish light that could only come from glass. As the moon rose higher, the house transformed, seemingly a thing of crystal. Though glass, the faceted brick revealed nothing inside. Shadows melded with shifting light in a nocturnal dance, seen only by the rare soul unable to sleep and out for a midnight constitutional.

Such walkers avoided the gleaming property, spooked by its ghostly appearance. None of them would ever have noticed that one shadow moved differently. As far as they knew, no one had set foot in the mansion for a century except for a daily woman, hired to clean, and a caretaker who visited one day a week for maintenance. The servants were frequently plied with questions over a friendly ale at the local pub, but to no purpose.

Only in the moonlight did that independent shadow flit across windowpanes, or pass through green-hued doors of carved glass to pace restlessly on the manicured drive. Silent, it would retreat with the stars into its daily disguise, invisible, waiting.

Network

Photo by Becky Strike, Oak Alley Plantation, LA

The storm clouds rolled in to compete with the afternoon’s brilliant blue sky. Right on schedule, Lije thought with satisfaction. He settled onto the bench beneath the metal pergola to watch the show.

It was a particularly fine one today. He had put the finishing touches on it himself only this morning, and rather regretted being the only one in the Botanical Walk to see it. He would have enjoyed watching the reactions. No matter; he wouldn’t have long himself if he didn’t want to get wet.

He rose and moved to lean against the brick pillar opposite the bench, patting it affectionately. No one would ever guess the pergolas true purpose; the designers had been brilliant. He let his gaze drift to the metal over his head and froze. Was that rust? It couldn’t be! With a quick glance around just to be sure he was alone, he yanked the bench closer and stepped up for a closer look.

There. Just at the joining. His cheeks flushed with hot anger; someone must be removed from the Maintenance Corps immediately. Neglect like that could jeopardize the entire network; the delicate fibers forming the weather matrix within the pergola could survive no exposure.

A peal of thunder jerked his attention to the sky as the first drops struck his face. His jaw dropped in horror as what should have been lightening pixelated across the sky. Once, twice, as the water plinked against the metal rows, then a section of cloud went blank. The storm roiled distortedly around the electrified tiles revealed behind them, pixels flickering.

Shadow

https://pixabay.com/photos/witch-witchcraft-occult-magic-6655568/

She touched the red leaves, just a brush as light as breath that left them trembling in the reflection from the crystal. They were the only color in the pitch black tent, tiny sparks accentuating the crystal’s glow.

It was all an illusion, of course. The light absorbent black drapes lining the inside of the tent led to an all but invisible gap at the pinnacle, allowing a single shift of light that produced a seemingly innate glow in the crystal directly below it while leaving the rest of the tent in impenetrable darkness.

Including Jet. How long had it been since she had been seen by another human? How long since the shadow ring had claimed her for eternal darkness? The illusion that awed carnival patrons hid her secret that held her forever aloof from the world.

Already knowing what she would see, she cupped her hands around the crystal. The leaves vanished, but no hands were visible. Only empty darkness that threatened to overwhelm the solitary gleam of light. This tent, this single crystal with its trappings, remained her last link with humanity, the last reason for human speech to ever address her.

The flap lifted and an unidentifiable figure slipped inside, their rapid breathing loud in the black hole that was her existence. “You wish to speak to the Shadow?” she whispered from the shelter of the crystal. “What is your deepest desire?”