Some contemplative drabbles today. Enjoy.
Night Stars
The dust of starlight dreams fall, burning embers of whispered hope scattered across the cosmos. The resonating voices orbiting the decay of despair, yet tiny sparks of light holding on within the void.
Crashing scintillation pulsing deep into the empty dark, echoing, echoing into the galactic eons. Can anyone hear me? I am here.
Winking lights woven over the sky, creating its tapestry of imagination, their tiny embers searing a heartbeat rhythm into life. And we dream, weave the tales against the moon, spinning words past infinity…
The dust of starlight dreams fall, and we rise on wings of hope.
Sirocco
The arid winds scour the sand, breathing swirls against the dunes, altering the horizon in shifting waves. They are tricksters and changelings, capricious artists never satisfied with their canvas. The games they play are their own, their path an ancient and wandering one. Do not trespass within their domain.
Your secrets buried deep will be witnessed, those sins you discarded beneath the sand, and they will remember. What is hidden will surface as the sands are scored away, revealing withered corpses and bones to be bleached by the sun. The desert winds are harsh and unforgiving.
Do not trust them…
Firestorm
Ashes fall like snowflakes, gently rocked by an unseasonable warm breeze, blanketing the frosted ground in a soft, fragile grey. The merest touch and the substance might crumble or dissolve. The air swirls with the stench of smoke and black plumes rise to the clouds, fuel for the ash.
In the distance, someone moans.
An unbroken line of destruction follows the path of war; a straight trail to smoldering charred ruins. Some of the surrounding forest still burns. Some of the dead do as well. The crackling of the flames is the only sound now.
The falling ash is silent.
Be Afraid of the Dark 
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