Ficlets

When I dream I dream of deserts. Dry, dead, wastelands, scuttling beetles scraping on molted gray trees.

When I dream I dream of despair.
Deserted cityscapes, angry red skies and jagged peaks. Diseased red-eyed rodents, emboldened, angry, formidable.

When I dream I dream of death.
Deep blackened skies choking lifeless planets.
Unfathomable voids- ripping, tearing in ever-expanding darkness.

Darkness. Emptiness.
Disease. Death. Despair.
Every night in my dreams.

When I awaken, I am empty.
A shell. A vessel. An Outsider.

I put on my mask.
I smile. Pratice. Smile again.
Good.

Another day at the office.