DeadlyEssence01

For fun, I wanted to set a scene based entirely from a diary entry. I wrote this to the prompt of "Moon". Now I think it might be fun to tell a whole story this way, but I don't know that I'll do that.

Day ~~3ish~~ X

Funnily enough, the only thing I remember from that fateful day - or night in this case, is the moon. It must have been full because despite being black, it acted as my guiding light. In fact, I don’t remember anything else. But that memory has been burned deep into my mind, it returns religiously – almost like those pesky debt collectors from back home - a continual reminder of my predicament.

You see, I am not home. I woke up in this cave. And I am not… even remotely home as far as I have been able to gather. And I’m not sure what that even means. The grass here is different. The sky. The moon. The trees. Nothing is at it should be. Well, the water is drinkable, and some of the plants have been edible.

Maybe I died. Maybe this is ~~heav~~. Maybe this is hell. Purgatory? It’s something. Or, maybe I’ve just gone mad, and this is all in my mind - but I refuse to believe that. This is real. My pain is real. All of my cuts, scrapes and bruises from that ~~day~~ night are real.

So, my conclusion is that I have somehow, gone somewhere other than Earth. Maybe aliens brought me here, or God. I don’t know. But I plan to find some other intelligent creature to interact with. Hopefully there are others like me – humans. Hopefully whatever they are, they speak my language…

I don’t know how long I slept last night, through the entire day it seems. In the morning I will set out to find out what I can about this place – I cannot stay here in this cave. I might go mad.

~ Asiné

cross-posted from: https://lemmy.zip/post/146508

I haven't written in years, so this is a little rusty, but I was going for cute and cozy. (And practicing 2nd person for some IF I'm working on...). Constructive criticism is welcome~

Prompt was "Rays"

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You lay in bed, wrapped in silken blankets, barely awake. You shift and your foot liberates itself from the cocoon. Freedom feels like the icy snow banks of the Northern Isles but a quick yank brings you back to solace - like a crackling campfire in the night. Rays from sun greet you through the blinds and illuminate your face, but you’re not ready for the light. Not yet. - Wait. What time is it? Surely, I couldn’t have slept too long. It can’t be that late. Not yet.

You sit up, losing the comfort and warmth that enveloped you. It’s late, it’s definitely late. I didn’t mean to sleep so late! Then you hear it. The low hum of their breath beside you and you realize where you are, when you are, how you are – who you are. You can’t help the smile that paints itself across your face. You slip back under the covers and press your body against theirs. The Warmth. For now, nothing else matters.

The lamppost flickers before drenching everything in darkness.