Rift

By entering the portal, will blood be shed against her intentions?

Illustration by author.

In the secret room I sit, facing the anomaly, a rip in reality. It billows and aches with light the colour of blood. The sweet yearning of it’s voice can be heard in the mind. I meditate to prepare for the bell chime of my soul. When it rings, I will stand and enter. The rift speaks to me, merging it’s history with my own, joining the points of my earnest studies.