Liminal Space Meme
Send me a random number for a starter/drabble with our characters in the setting of a liminal space #1-104 (some repeats, mostly taken from this list)
a playground at night
rest stops on highways
deep in the mountains
churches at night
abandoned 7/11’s
your bedroom at 5 am
hospitals at midnight
warehouses that smell like dust
lighthouses with lights that don’t work anymore
empty parking lots
ponds and lakes in suburban neighborhoods
rooftops in the early morning
inside a dark cabinet
A pond on a roof
early in the morning wherever it’s just snowed
trails by the highway just out of earshot of traffic
schools during breaks
those little beaches right next to ferry docks
bowling alleys
a cornfield next to a country road
your friends living room once everybody but you is asleep
laundromats at midnight
hospital waiting rooms
airports from midnight to 7am
cemeteries
abandoned penitentiaries
hilltops at night in full moonlight
empty barns
marshes
really anywhere quiet at midnight, the air vibrates
old stones and henge
the ocean when it’s still quiet with fog over it
train tracks that go through the middle of the woods
bridges
ancient places
stands of old growth forest
rabbit paths off hiking tails
trails between the main ski hills
winter twilight
back allies between houses
logging roads
dirt roads on fall evenings with leaves falling off the trees
libraries before closing
anyplace where it’s snowing before sunrise
the woods during a rainstorm
roads covered with snow with trees on the sideways while snowflakes are falling out of the sky
train stations after 10 PM
outside, right before a massive storm
the woods just after twilight
the beach in winter
the bottom of swimming pools
empty beaches when its snowing
back part of a library
late night empty streets
highways late at night
windy roads
windy roads at night when you can only see the immediate road
abandoned parking lots (office buildings, homes)
anywhere immediately after a really bad fight
little towns late at night when no ones awake and the only lights on are the street posts
the lakeside anytime between 2 and 6 am
firework shows when you’re sitting on the grass
House on a lake
being the only one downstairs on christmas
stepping outside in the early morning when it has just snowed
when its dark and you see snowflakes falling down in the light of a lamppost on the lonely road
that one clear spot in the forest with trees surrounding it
a parked car in a snow/thunderstorm
corn fields with the wind blowing over them
malls when they’re about to close for the night
woods at twilight/dawn
being on a train after midnight
theme parks at night
winding back roads with rolling fog
seeing “open” signs when its really foggy and cloudy
being in a train that was crowded when you got in and now its quiet, looking at the seats knowing that there were people sitting there moments ago and now they’re gone
hiking trails that have nobody on them
being alone in an elevator for a few minutes
looking down at the forest when you’re standing somewhere high and seeing the top of the trees with fog lingering over them
the ferry about to take off in the middle of the night
tree houses
empty seats on the late night train
4-6 am on a winter morning
Feeling chased
the clouds/damp coming out of your mouth when its really cold in the morning
stepping out on an unfamiliar metro/train stop
greenhouses that have been left to grow alone
cemeteries in the middle of fields
biking/walking on the main road when its dark without cars
swamps with fog
hotel corridors in the middle of the night
anywhere where you can hear a train whistle in the distance but you can’t see it or know just how far away it is
foggy mornings in a meadow
that flickering streetlight
working offices at midnight
long, dark hallways
the middle of a park when its snowing
being in a forest where there are train tracks not knowing if the train may even ever approach
bonfires
a little lake in the middle of the forest
lonely swings
overgrow field/yard
the woods on a night with a full moon
empty stables
rest stops
empty metro stations that are usually crowded
gas stations on long mountain roads
the old part of a city when you’re the only one in the street
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@michaelwheeler asked: an old tree with trunks like knives
unknown force is lingering in the air, making the atmosphere heavy. a little suffocating. it’s like a damp presence with something tangible to it, but intangible all the same. equally there and not : it can be attempted to be spotted, but it always goes as such, with your eyes flitting to the tree only in time for the black mass of something to hide itself behind it, to dissipate. to fade. ( that is the nature of death, things which escape our material realm with no more than a sweet, short breath. it is a sudden transformation from at once being here, to being not. to pinpoint the essence of death, not the cause and not the scientific, logical explanation, but the very essence of death, leaves us with feelings and truths which prove as such ––– TANGIBLE & INTANGIBLE. paradoxical. completely understandable. what a riddle this state of existing, this end to all things, could present. )
the overwhelming energy of the woods surrounding a boy from a nearby small town, a place of no consequence, a town within which the corpse herself had made her life, before, is clear to be closing in –– that energy sinks the air, tightens the chest, makes it harder to take a step forward or backward. that the corpse was a living thing, that the thing beneath the woods was a walking, speaking girl, was a fact true only a long time ago. WHEN SHE DID KNOW THE NAME HAWKINS ( THE NAME BRENNER ) before her ribcage turned playground for worms / before her hair tangled with roots so thoroughly that she could find herself stuck to the earth, body sent deeper with every ounce of force exuded by the tree above her body, pushing itself to grow. farther towards the center of the world. the depth, the abyss of a tainted underground, poisoned by bones and strange entities of another world, ushered all in by the same orchestrator ( that good doctor : he wasn’t here anymore, was he? she couldn’t feel him near. but then again, who, even of the undead, could be so trusting of their own senses when six feet under . . . . )
above her is that tree, that tree growing wide and ominous. stretching itself not so far upwards but across, limbs lingering closer to the ground than towards the grey sky. there was a reddish hue to it, just beneath the surface of its bark, that made it stand aside from other trees, at least to a cautious observer. there was something to it, a natural sort of unnatural. that paradox, working itself out physically, tangibly, yet again. sap drenched the ground beside it, not with its typical amber hue but with something leaning darker, a little brown, some hint of crimson. it became stale and old on the leaves below, turning a putrid shade that matched well with the rotted leaves. with, too, the unseen rot underneath it all, but a passerby shouldn’t be expected to be aware of anything so rancid.
wind and will of the corpse makes the limbs shift very comfortably towards that boy, the acknowledgement of life bringing a sort of spark, glimmer of life, to the corpse. free of leaves, now, it doesn’t seem so welcoming as it might during spring - or summertime. it looks rather like the type of sight from a poe story : outstretched, those hints of red to its color, its sharp branches held out at such a height that the wrong move might send someone tumbling down to meet another branch, and they could very likely impale themself, slice their own skin, break open a neck to slaughter. it would be a weak lie to say it wasn’t craved for. but then, there were more pressing concerns than a little spilled blood. there was more needed than what some kid, lost maybe, or dedicated to an unfortunate path, could offer with life alone. the corpse needed something : hands to dig at the ground. to pull up the bones. it needed it badly.
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@galgher asked : a bustling diner that never closes
there is the rot of egg heavy in the air / should sensitivity be of issue for a corpse, it would prove a problem, but for now it was of little consequence. only too dark. only too little to sustain a soul buried deep in scarred organs, lively brain. thoughts gnawed at what little remained off her : 22 18 22 18 24 07 24 07. eyes were shut but she could see the atrocious glow of blue and red neon. streetlight seeping in. atmosphere alluded to a city : she’d only thought of that in a vague, passing way. never concrete. she wondered where she was. where they’d brought her this time. hidden her. dead to the world, she remained, unrotted, in a dumpster ‘round the side of a fucking dive. wherever she was smelled like shit. thick scent of maple syrup lingering in the best parts of it.
sentience moved inside, outside such fickle constraints of a body ditched for dead. GROWING IMPATIENT : I, ME, THIS UNHOLY ENTITY OF MYSELF, MY SOUL IS GROWLING AND IT’S HUNGRY HUNGRY HUNGRY ––––––– there would be a short ripple in the consistency of the fluorescent lighting as she passed through, sights settling. understanding whatever demons lay beneath sweaty skins of people still breathing, people with so little time on her. the speaker system was blaring top forty’s, which somehow managed to be significantly less appetizing than even the stench of old eggs. in turn it shut off, after the flickering of the lights ( a waitress gave pause to it, as did a cook from the order window, but it wasn’t long enough to provoke more sincere concern before sound came back on and those shitty speakers were back at it, except this time sporting less irritating noise ).
♪ mommy told me something ! a little girl should know ! it’s all about the devil and i’ve learned to hate him so ! ♪
there would be no awareness to it, not obviously so, as the world outside grew quieter. windows became more thoroughly entrenched in shadow. but not so quiet now as to not usher those inside to her resting place. not so quiet to forego a sincere interest, desire, desperation : TO BE KNOWN.
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