Part 🕑
I phase in and out of reality. At one moment the crunch of boots wakes me, the next it's the voice of my mother. Phasing... in and out... no... control... what's going on?
Blackout.
YOU ARE READING
Steaming
Science FictionElizabeth survived off one poem and watch her whole life. Until she runs. Runs from the Oil Clock. Seconds go ticking by, Minutes begin to fly, Hours turn and turn, And each day seems to burn.
