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Her nightmares got worse, so I built a diving suit to explore the restless ocean of her dreams. I thought it would be black and full of monsters, like stepping through the gasoline rainbow on top of a puddle and entering a world of dark reflections and broken colours. I was wrong. Her dream was white and endless, a world so vast and bright and empty that nothing could hide. It was there, at the bottom of the nightmare, I learned that terror is not meeting a monster in the dark. It is meeting ourselves in the light.
Short story written by Peter Chiykowski
website twitter facebook instagramStory prompt taken from a photo by Siyan Ren
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