The morning sounds of word clouds floating by in Webland
“Where am I?” I say and like so many times before, Webland writes the three words out in white puffs of cloud in front of me. A joined up pretty sentence, written out and floating just above my head, punctuation and all.
At first it was entertaining, this trick, this ability to turn my thoughts into these fluffy apparitions.
I let the words tumble out in those first few weeks, not caring whether they really made any sense. Let them form sentence after half-sentence, unconnected thoughts running into one another. The rambling mess of words filling up the world around me.
Puffs and plumes of words appear until I can reach out my hand in any direction and touch them. I can wrap myself every day in them like a big comforting blanket until I am lost in my own introspection. It’s not something that I need much help in, but that’s what this place has become for me. In the vastness of Webland, 750words.com has become my haven.
Away from the quests and the further adventures I know I should travel in. It is the mirage and oasis so comfortable that its hard to remember why I would ever need to publish at all. I play and push the words here and there, and eventually they fade away, at least until the next day.
I know I must move on. Find a way up and out of these endless clouds of thoughts or I may become lost forever.
I can barely remember the clearing in the forest, my quest to take part in the Gammify Challenge and the mystery of the missing fortress. The strange skeletal creature who brought me here, has not reappeared, and I’m still holding on to the charred stump of my staff in my hand.
I remember the surge of lightening that flashed as I touched it and awakened in this place. Dazed, I have drifted through these rolling word clouds that never have to be questioned, edited or revealed.
“Time to get out!” I shout and the words form differently this time. Stiff and strong they clump together into the rungs of a ladder. With only a slight hesitation I clamber up.
“Keep going, don’t stop” I say, the sentence building another rung. I reach up and pull out over the top into fresh air, the edges of my cloud.
The fog is thinner here and as I squint around me the sky above me darkens.
Looking up, I see another mass of words slowly moving across the sky. The words connect several layers deep, so thick that it seems to have corridors and connections within it. It slowly moves as one, a steady flow going somewhere directed by some unseen force.
I see it then something moving inside it. Among the words, a small dark figure or maybe several of them hurrying between the words.
I strain my neck not sure if what I see can be right. Is that a penguin?
Video & music source: Grand Canyon Time Lapse Video
This post was a serendipitous prompt from WordPress.com’s Daily Post challenge.