00:07:00
Peace--this new land she gazed upon embodied peacefulness. Serenity oozed from the very pores of the new world. The field in which she currently laid in seemed normal...tranquil, even. This was until she let herself be immersed in the sensorial stimulation of the land and realized there wasn’t any. There was no smell, sound, taste. None. Even the grass in her hand seemed to have no real sensation against the pads of her fingertips. The blades of grass at her feet only displayed movement as soon as she ran her hand across their yellowing reeds. It was...unnatural--unnatural in the way that these reeds seemed to call her to them so desperately to experience the instinctual sway of their species.
00:06:00
When she looked up into the pale blue of the sky, the clouds displayed no distinction. It reminded her of a cookie cutter. Each was shape infected with this unoriginality, as if they were trapped in a mold of conformity. To her, these clouds screamed oddness. Odd in the sense that they seemed...ethereal. Too perfect. Quiet. Soundless. The pleasant chirp of birds was absent. There was absolutely no sign that this field in which she stood harbored any life. Except her. She was... alone. Utterly by herself.
00:05:00
Her toes crinkled at the thought of her absolute isolation. The dirt under her feet crumpled in reaction. Surprised, her head drooped down to the soil. She could barely see the cracked pink nail polish under the dirt where her shoes should have been. When didn't she have shoes? She remembered having shoes before. Before? Blurred images zoomed through her eyes as she concentrated on the past. Before? As far as she could remember, there really wasn't an immediate memory of how she got to the field.
00:04:00
A breath caught in her throat as she felt a sharp prick on her arm. She looked down at her porcelain skin around her wrist. Nothing. It must just have been paranoia. She released the breath she didn't know she was holding and started to inhale normally. A familiar smell crept into her senses as the stench of disinfectant burned her nose. The overwhelming scent took her off guard as she shielded her nose and averted her attention down to her feet. The faint color of red in the dirt caught her eye.
00:03:00
She bent down to grasp at the scarlet color below; it belonged to a book. A book that wore an old scratched leather cover with yellowing pages jutting out
Monachopsis: the subtle persisting sense of being out of place
Brooklyn Christofis
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