(excerpt from pending draft of my fantasy novel, "The Puppeteer")
I’d seen this before. At a smaller scale, sure, but the feeling was the same.
Dread, like the ice cold water of a flood, rose up around people's feet.
They sloshed through it, bearing the weight of their terror as their pantlegs absorbed the dark, metaphorical liquid. As buildings fell in the distance and the ground shook, the dread rippled through the crowds and splashed at their edges.
Maybe that’s why I felt so numb. This wasn’t new to me. A surprise maybe, but nothing I hadn’t experienced before. It’s not that the events didn’t matter to me, it wasn’t even that they didn’t phase me, I just couldn’t get myself to panic the way I once had.
Everyone showed so much love for my last piece of writing I shared on here, so I figured I'd give a sneeze of something I wrote today that I really loved.
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