If the sky was an ocean, it'd get darker the higher up you looked, sort of like this world's sky. A pale blue close to land, fading into the deepest sapphire you've ever seen.
Bright, colorful fish of all shapes and sizes would swim through the air. Tiny fish swimming between your fingers, through your hair, darting through cracks and holes in walls, between tree branches.
Medium sized fish would swim past windows, into attics, around trees, spiraling around bridges. Crabs and snails and lobsters would cluster on rooftops, in bushes, in caves. Bigger fish would swim high up in the air, on mountains, around skyscrapers and huge statues and buildings, in the tops of redwood forests.
Whales would swim above streets between city buildings, like this world's float parades. They'd be the clouds, slow and massive, soaring through the sky. They'd let out huge, deep groans that rumbled in your chest and rattled the windows and shook the streets.
YOU ARE READING
Twisted Dreams
PoetryA collection of short stories, poems, and half-written ramblings. ~•°•°-----------------------------------《☆》 dream \ ˈdrēm \ 1 : a series of thoughts, visions, or feelings that happen during sleep ~•°•°-----------------------------------《☆》 night·m...
