My muse is being held in solitary confinement and hasn’t seen anyone for weeks. Send ⚠ to find them.
She’d lost count of the days. Hours. Minutes. Seconds. Ticking in her head. The ticking. Ticking. Not literally so to speak, but the endless silent sound that brewed in the back of her skull had seeped just a bit too long, the tea in her head bitter and dull. Nothing. That’s what she was floating in.
Floating. Floating with her back on the cold metal of the floor as she stared up into the fluorescent light that had become her sun, her warmth, the center of her universe. She orbited around the bulb in ellipse after ellipse, the axis of her body never managing to stay still long enough for her to measure it.
It was colder than usual in the universe tonight- No. Not colder. Less stuffy. As if the vacuum of her new space had been broken, a wormhole to a new dimension ripped in the very fabric of the galaxies created in her head.
And then clicking. And then clicking. And then ticking. Tick, tick. Click, click. The footsteps of time approached her. Time was a woman, she found out, as she leaned over, examining the planet’s geography of her face. Oh, what time had done to the planet.
“Can you hear me?” the voice was saying, as fuzzy as it was. Distant as it was. The green-hued woman that represented time and space hovered closer and its hand pressed into her forehead. “Kara? Are you hearing me at all?”
Time’s face was green, and had red lipstick that partially matched the red hair above, pulled taut and away from her glasses. Equally-red eyebrows were drawing together above the frames as she leaned closer, and closer still...