As the sun sets, the sky reflects an orange hue to every part of this world. The wind looks burning hot, yet free and unrestricted. The skies and clouds looks abnormally skinny and snake like. The small sliver of blue in the sky seems abnormal and displaced splashed in marmalade.

I stand here upon the bridge unable to take a step. I have neither feet nor legs — only my arms, thorax and head. My face reflects the colors of the sky. They’re the same orange, with a bit of grungy gray, and a sliver of blue. I am made of the same colors of this world, yet my face can only contort to one of terror. My mouth agape and nostrils flaring. I cover my ears from this world. I have a bracelet or watch on my right arm. Perhaps, it’s a part of my sleeve. My body is long and elongated with no feet.

The people behind me, I’m not sure where they are going. Are they walking away or are they coming near? Though their bodies are colored indigo, they seem like charcoal black shadows to me. I cannot see their faces; I can’t read what they’re thinking. They’re too far ahead of me. I wish they would come to save me. That small hope inside, doesn’t seem to die. However, I can’t let out a peep because I am frozen here.

I’m here standing posed at this bridge. I have no hair or fingers. Everything is so deafeningly loud that I have to cover my ears. I’ve been starving for a long time so all my cheek fat is gone. My lips are blue. The color of my face is like a dead corpse. I’m here alive, yet what is the difference between living and dying like this?

The bridge before me reflects the colors of marmalade. It stands proud and confident- very different from me. The small corner of the bridge reveals a dark shadow; I cannot see the end of the bridge. The people ahead are fine without worry but I can’t help but wonder what lies ahead.

Below, is a great body of water twisting and contorting. Is it really a body of water or is it just the sky playing tricks? It can be a cloud, a mountain, or a body of water. It seems to be sucking everything into itself. The curves of my body and the world though the same, do not mix. Why am I here?


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