Broken Sky

Originally written as a flash fiction submission for Cursed Morsels Zine’s “Nightmare Birds” theme 2024.

Birdsong at Heaven’s Gate,
turned the sinner away,
lack of repentance sealed his fate,
when night engulfed the day.

A nightmare sings its song,
twisted and decayed,
in a dark world made so wrong,
it’s now too late to pray.

Have I died?

I looked down at myself from above. In the grips of fever, I wept for the life I felt slipping away. Hot tears streaked my face and icy sweat soaked through the sheets of my sick bed. My eyelids closed. Alone. I was all alone. As I am now. Here.

HERE

Where is here? Stretched before me, endless, dark flatland—sublime in its immensity. I stand against raging winds, yet I feel nothing. Long, withered grass rolls in waves, yet I hear nothing. No scents tantalize my nostrils. No breath fills my lungs. But I can see.

I CAN SEE

Black stars pulse in the void above. I look up in time to see a dead bird flying through the broken sky. Following its path, I watch it soar over the ruins of a once-great city. A featherless skeleton, the bird dives between ancient monoliths and continues through the fallen empire. How it flies so gracefully without any feathers, I do not know. It comes back and circles overhead like the many strange moons that shine so dully over this desolate world. Is this Hell?

THIS HELL

With a screech—the only thing I can hear—the bird flaps its hollow-boned wings and takes past the ruined city once more. It soars long and far until the dark horizon swallows it. I must find life. There must be life. My eyes turn toward the crumbling city in the distance. A wave of fear rips through me.

RIPS THROUGH ME

Walking isn’t right. It’s as if I’m submerged in water, pushing the atmosphere around me to propel myself forward. The going is slow and the ruins are so far away. If life exists in such a world as this, it may reside in the deep shadows of the city. Something catches my eye. Glinting light. Like a blade.

LIKE A BLADE

No, it’s a beacon. Life. From a tower in the middle of the city, a white light blinks. Inexplicably, it grows in size. It gets bigger and bigger, and then I realize it’s coming toward me. It isn’t a beacon. What a fool I am. It’s another bird. This one is greater in size than any I could imagine.

IMAGINE

As it nears, its wagon wheel-sized eyes glow white hot. Unlike the smaller bird, feathers black as coal adorn this one’s massive wings. Its eyes illuminate the yellow and brown grass, revealing the rotten Earth beneath. This world isn’t dying. It’s already dead. Like me. If I’m dead.

IF

There’s an earsplitting shriek. Suddenly, all my senses rush back as a blinding white light washes over my body. I open my eyes to a familiar room. I’m in my sick bed. I’m still alive. I woke up.