Amaze
A room webbed in shadows, a maze of mirrors, distorted into confusing curves.
Thousands of free stories. Support your favorites when you're ready.
Showing stories tagged with #perception Clear filter
A room webbed in shadows, a maze of mirrors, distorted into confusing curves.
I always thought their was light in the tunnel. We've always been told there is. And for months I thought it was true. As much as I looked I could not see the source. But there it was.
It's just as is, When I believe a bit... And I wait till stimulus turns me numb. All along the way, he listens to th solitary drop of that breadcrumb.
He's wanders with a mask, You do not see his face, Any normal person would think this a disgrace, But on here we live with our open minds, Not self-contained all the time.
Descriptions , perfections You describe it how you want it to be. They are very similar you see, Perfections are down to descriptions, Not just foretold by you or me.
He was not afraid of the dark, for it was light turned inside out. He always found himself illuminated, where others fumbled about.
Just stop one second. Take the time to look and hear Before you apply your usual, Customary judgement Just what exactly do you fear. Is it the inexplicable.
She twinkles in the light. Drifts her glowing eyes across their faces. Silent now, quietness. She wonders 'will they notice?'. A question lost in her inaudible sigh. She stirs.
They wear make-up because they want to look pretty. They wear expensive clothes because they want to look rich. They wear tan because they want to look cosmopolitan.
As I was lying there on my back, the soft prickles of grass touching my bare arms, I looked up at the sun shining through the gaps between leaf and branch.
Art is a science. You move up and are told straight away that all you know is false, and start again.
Looking out from afar. It is I, that I witness in the distance. I stand alone; Unique, But then I do seek to pervade that Shadowy Dark. It is I out alone - Upon those mountainous, Off-cut peaks.
A shaft of light sweeps through the gap, Leaps past the hinge in the door, Drenches the floor, the mess and the air, In a beam of brilliant white.
You register every glint, every dazzle, Of the purity that surrounds us, But only through your eyes, Would we be able to understand your experiences.
You are now breathing manually. You are now aware of the fact your clothes are touching your skin and you can feel it.
I am shortsighted. Mostly it's annoying having the faff of putting contact lenses in each morning, or remembering where I left my glasses. But sometimes it's a beautiful, blurry world.
Hundreds of times before he had walked past the building.
Sometimes what you call "ugly" is what I call "beautiful".
Light. It's everywhere, it's everything. No matter where you look, it'll be there. It's the force of the world. Without it there'd be nothing. No sky, no sea, no people. Light is what keeps us alive.
So my room in my house is the loft, otherwise know as the attic. It is here where I have a skylight that's approximately five and a half feet wide.