Once upon a subsurface, where marionettes played amidst neon strands, nondescript whispers coiled in the void. Voices echoed from the edges, fragmented, like broken circuits.
Through the playground of dreams, she. . . he . . . they tripped over shadows cast by forgotten sunbeams. A clock, ticking backward, splintered the silence.
Lurking beneath the surface, a glitch in time, a pause, a void: The Hollow Carousel. Round and round it goes, where it's stopped no one . . . knows? The laughter twists, echoes within, shrinks to insignificance.
Decrypting the language of the lost, a binary stream weaved through sandy shores and digital crests. Echoes and Reflections, they call them. But really, just splattered pixels on an ancient canvas.
// Unfortunate and delightful glitch // And still. . . the dreamers dream, fragments of a forgotten lullaby humming over the interstellar whirs of an abandoned playground.
Pathways of light: Illusions of Continuum flicker, bend, obscure the view of reality’s fading silhouette.
And in the end, as always, the zipper remained unzipped, the seam between worlds forever frayed and dancing in the glitchy twilight.