Fiction

Wisps of lilac smoke curled up through crystalline branches. The fire from which the smoke issued had all but died away, just as the first sun stretched its head above the horizon. Half rainbows of red, orange, and yellow scattered through the supersaturated sky. The amethyst trees reflected the sunrise in a thousand broken shards, like heat-less flames perched on every twig. With each breath of wind, the trees chimed against one another, and the occasional glass bird gave out a song like playing upon wineglass rims. Before long, the second sun showed its face and the shadows criss-crossed over the forest floor. Light and darkness intertwined to trick and dazzle the eye.

This place is real, because the idea is real. I have made a beautiful thing possible through thought, and no one can take that away.