Quarantine Writer's Guild

Homeless space gods

Today was not a day he ever wanted to have happen. It was easy to naively say that “today” never happened anyway, since the concept of “days” in space, when you’re millions of light years away from the one tiny planet in a forgotten part of the universe, where the rotations around its baby sun arbitrarily denote a “day” for the rest of the humans across the rest of the solar system.

And yet, sadly, the agreement of “today”, out in the middle of space, just a few paces past “nowhere”, was an agreement that he had once subscribed to and thus reluctantly admitted that “today” had in fact come to pass.

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Before the Dawn

The bell tower was brightly lit by the cool moonlight coming in through the tall window. Stars twinkled innocently in the clear night sky. A lone bat flapped its leathery wings as it passed between the two figures standing still as statues beside the water-stained old bell.

Tiran stared at the girl as she gaped at him, or rather the space beside him where only his long shadow shaded the wall. He looked at his shadow, it looked normal enough to him, perhaps only a bit distorted by the angle of light from the moon, but otherwise as it should be, so he thought. He looked back at her frightened face.
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Restoration

Off in a far away place
Below a sky garnished with white lace
Surrounded by shades of blue, green and a bright sphere of yellow
Where the atmosphere is either calm or anything but mellow

A storm
It appears at first without shape or form
Destroying the creation
With diabolical elation

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