Crescent Illusions

“Hey! Wait up!” Pal gasped out the request, to no avail. The strange boy turned the edge beyond his view, taking all sight and sound of his movement with his retreating form. Pal leaned over his knees in crouched, deep-breathing pain from the chase. His heavy gasps echoed inside his helmet.

He’d need to keep going, he knew. He only had a few tics until -too late. Before his ground-pointed eyes, everything shifted and morphed. If his headgear were not equipped with anti-vertigo software, Pal would have retched at the twisting, swarming, mixing colors and land forms. He had no idea how the boy he pursued, apparently unencumbered by gear, could continue on through these conditions. How the boy could move so quickly. How the boy even existed, really.

Pal looked up from the sky beneath his feet, noted the re-orientation of his surroundings, and promptly crashed to the surface above him. “Eurgh,” he groaned, feeling the sluggishness and some of the bruising while his suit’s systems kicked in. He rose as it mended; scouted around.

Before this last shift he had been skidding around contoured shapes that rose from sand-like material. The ambient light had been annoyingly bright, yet also a pleasant shade of pink. Now, Pal noted, he seemed to be in a city. This city was unlike any he’d been in before, but not unlike images he’d studied at elementary training. “These are buildings,” his memory heard an artificial instructor note. “Homo sapiens sapiens inhabited and busied itself within these structures.”

Keeping his feet moving forward, Pal tilted his head back. The buildings reached beyond his sight. What a miserable, backwards way to exist. He supposed all species must start somewhere, but could never understand why his ancestors’ timeline progressed from perfection to disaster. Why had his progenitors constantly sought what was worse?

He heard a sound and snapped to attention. A face with large, crescent eyes peered at him from around a building just ahead. The boy.

Photo by Natan Vance.

Pal sprinted without thought toward his quarry. The boy rushed from hiding and pulled ahead, as he had since Pal first materialized and saw him. Both ran down the middle space between the tall, tall structures to either side. The ground felt soft, appeared white. Pal could see his footfalls leaving imprints in the material, though the boy’s odd tread did not. The dark shapes to either side seemed to melt away from them as they passed; no, they were melting away. Pal glanced right and left as he ran, witnessing the anomaly.

He wondered, yet again, what this destination really was. Clearly, it was not merely a physical location. No location they’d researched had behaved as this place did; morphing, moving, and melting like a living optical illusion.

Pal knew he was nearly at the end of his exploratory tic and would dissolve back to Central soon. He set his jaw, determined to gather more information before that happened. Since the ever-changing location proved intangible for collection purposes, Pal sought to catch the one constant he had encountered: the boy.

His suit worked overtime to compensate for energy and nitrogen loss. At his current rate, he would exhaust both and need to rest as he had before. And before that. And, before that. Surely, this time, he could draw near enough to catch the boy. Surely, he could get answers to return with.

The atmosphere darkened. A sound similar to a loud clap came from ahead, from the boy. To Pal’s surprise, the sky in front of them both molded into a dark sphere upon the dark of the air. Totally black at first; an outline of winking light grew to shine from the base and sides of the sphere.

As they drew nearer, Pal felt himself drawn to the new anomaly. Literally. The sensation felt like the projection arm of a spacecraft. He fought a natural panic, but explorer training calmed his initial reactions. “Always act decisively within your means,” another memory of an artificial instructor intoned. Pal ran on.

His wrist beeped a warning: a mere moment till dissolvement.

He strove to move more quickly but his speed was no longer his own. The boy and he were being pulled inexorably toward the eclipsed horizon. The buildings melted faster. Pal’s treads in the groundstuff deepened and blurred. His visuals clouded somewhat at the edges as he tried to keep the boy in sight.

Another beep sounded, then another. It was time.

Just as Pal’s body began to piece to data for dissolving, he saw the most unusual illusion of them all: an inverted flip of boy, buildings, sphere, and sky. Where once he knew the dark outlines of running youth and landscape; Pal saw the whitespace image of a gaping, grinning face. A face that swallowed the boy. A face that looked at him.


Written in response to D. Wallace Peach‘s extremely popular prompt. She just might get all 300 daily responses posted before she decides that April would be a good time for a vacation…

32 thoughts on “Crescent Illusions

  1. johnlmalone March 18, 2019 / 12:56 am

    it’s certainly a busy piece of writing; it would be great if transposed to a video game 🙂 a bit like Ready, Player One which I’ve only seen the promos for

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Priscilla Bettis March 18, 2019 / 4:03 am

    What a fun response to Diana’s prompt, poor Pal. I enjoyed the read!

    Yes, poor Diana, it has been a popular image!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Chelsea Owens March 18, 2019 / 7:06 am


      -Yes; I abstained last month, mostly due to traffic. She started another this month, so I figured she must know what she’s getting into!


  3. H.R.R. Gorman March 18, 2019 / 4:40 am

    Loved the alien perspective – Pal was so determined and dutiful!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. D. Wallace Peach March 18, 2019 / 6:26 am

    This is an awesome story, Chelsea! What fabulous world-building on every level and so smoothly executed. I was hooked and would gladly read more of this. I’m so glad you took part in the prompt challenge. Great writing. I’m looking forward to sharing!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Chelsea Owens March 18, 2019 / 7:08 am

      Thank you, Crazy Hostess! 🙂 Priscilla and I were just wondering if you’re doing all right this month! 😉

      Liked by 1 person

      • D. Wallace Peach March 18, 2019 / 7:25 am

        Yes, doing fine. Thanks so much for wondering/asking. I have over 60 stories this month to share. It’s been crazy, and some family stuff coming up quickly (good stuff, but in an insane way). So plugging along! ❤

        Liked by 1 person

  5. TanGental March 18, 2019 / 6:28 am

    Ok so you nailed creepy and weirdy. When’s the next instalment? Can’t leave it there…

    Liked by 1 person

    • Chelsea Owens March 18, 2019 / 7:09 am

      I know… but you know how my sci-fi serials need to get hit by a bus because I haven’t the time for them.

      Liked by 1 person

      • TanGental March 18, 2019 / 2:35 pm

        you need to teach them how to write themselves… just another sort of parenting…

        Liked by 1 person

          • TanGental March 18, 2019 / 3:09 pm

            nah, just ignore the lost hour on daylight saving a have 25 in a day – works for me…

            Liked by 1 person

  6. Violet Lentz March 21, 2019 / 7:59 am

    Well, I don’t know where I was when you published this, but I just found it today. Excellent visuals. And I want one of those replenishing suits.. Any idea where Pal got his?

    Liked by 1 person

    • Chelsea Owens March 21, 2019 / 8:53 am

      The suits are standard issue for military explorers, in about 200 years…


  7. robertawrites235681907 March 26, 2019 / 10:49 am

    You descriptions are lovely, Chelsea, I could quite feel the vertigo. An excellent story in response to this prompt.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Chelsea Owens March 26, 2019 / 11:03 am

      Thank you! I’m glad you could see and feel that since I know people think descriptions differently than I do sometimes. 🙂


  8. mylilplace March 27, 2019 / 11:16 am

    I had such fun reading this. All the details are just so vivid. They fed my imagination well. Thank you!


  9. Doug March 29, 2019 / 2:35 am

    When drawing on the mood of scattered individuals in the bustling crowd, drawing on their laughter, their happiness (probably tourists), I am existing outwardly observing a joyful milieu, but the interstitial gloom, depression, and anger of the other minds in the matrix of the crowd draws me into an inner hopelessness that makes the buildings melt away. Dark moods are more solid than buildings. Visitors from pastures are not cowed by a drudgery they’re not obligated to feel. And for the inner fantasy, the buildings melt though the legs keep moving like a graceful robot. Even in a brick and mortar age, people can be robotic if their fantasies are stronger than their dreams.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Chelsea Owens March 29, 2019 / 8:31 am

      Sounds like you should have written your own answer to Diana’s prompt. 🙂


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