A Self-Study Within A Broken Mind

I came back a week later, realizing I forgot to find a way to keep her out of my mind. Instead of entering the library, I sat at my device, mind outside of the untethered space. Maybe there was a way to contact Fyntn this way. There was no way he would show up in my reality, but I have seen him around in the corner of my eye a few times, a flicker of a shape vanishing. #Fyntn?# I thought with my eyes closed. Behind my eyelids I found something else than the imagination opening to the untethered space. There was a corridor in half light, with a distant doorway that had a rosy light to it. I flew through it and then into the corridor with rose pink light. The corridor led to a room made of pink flesh. I had no form in there, just a standard array of senses. #Fyntn?# #Welcome to the inside of your brain,# he said. I looked around, but doubted this was my brain. #I can hear your thoughts, by the way. Kinda, like, always. Look.# I watched at the direction he pointed as a light emerged from ...

My fire was always considered the odd one out. My mom pretended to like the fact that it looked like a rainbow, but Dad and my brothers were never that good at lying. It was unique, unheard of even, but in their eyes only weird. My mom’s fire was lime green, like the shadow mages and their minions. She had good standing in their circles because of this fact, expanding relations with a powerful force. Dad’s fire was the classic orange-red. He was very common among firemongers, and the fact that Mom ever gave him the time of day was a miracle. His classical nature made instant pals with the other clans who kept up their orange-red fire circles. My elder brother Henry’s fire was a gentle orange, like that of twilight just past the sunset, lingering from blue sky to the gentlest orange horizon. I always loved that about his fire. He was artistic, putting shows on for our family and clans. This gathered a lot of interest from girls. He could be so sweet one moment, and very mean the next. T...

My grandma always told me of the blue skies before the time of the storms. “The blue just went on and on,” she said. “Half of what you saw was blue all day, sometimes spotted with white with clouds. It felt endless, until it wasn’t.” “Why did the storms start?” “We took the world for granted,” Grandma said. “At least those who were in charge did.” “Just a few did this to everyone?” I asked. “Why?” “That was the way of the world before the storms,” she said. “People looked out for themselves, while the world was dying. Since lightning is dangerous for everyone, it brought us together again.” “I would have loved to see the sky, just like it was before,” I said, closing my eyes to imagine. Grandma leaned over to kiss me on my forehead. “Blue dreams, my angel,” she said. It made me smile. And so blue dreams found me that night. I stood at the peak of a mountain, high above the dark lightning clouds. The sky absorbed most of what I could see, feeling almost endless. I woke up with the start...