I'm cheating on this one. This isn't exactly a brand new peice of fiction. It's an excerpt from my work in progress. I'm running out of ideas here people, so just bear with me.
There were broken lines everywhere, coiling around each other into roiling balls tiny little worlds of their own. They would coalesce and linger, tie themselves into knots, then suddenly fall apart, the individual possibilities floating away from each other. Not seeing, but feeling this she was mesmerized. What is going on?
And then she saw them. She saw their shadowy legs making motions like they were walking, their mouths moving, lips shaping words that made no sound. They were gray and translucent; she could see the buildings and the streets behind them. There were three of them, all may have been young men, but it was hard to tell. She had a sense of what they were, but no sense of who they were.
Cole grabbed her upper arm, squeezing tight. Myra winced at the pain, but didn’t make a sound. She saw his face pulled tight, his eyes wide, as they followed the shades. He was terrified. Was this why he had been on such high alert? How had he known they would be here?
The trio of phantoms, lost souls from another world, were walking together. They knew each other. Whether they were related or not, she couldn’t tell, but their lines curled around each other, creating a little ball of reality for them. The way they moved was so strange to look at. Their bodies flowed through this world as if they were underwater, but moving at normal speed. They were aware of their surroundings, to an extent. She watched as the trio split a telephone pole, one going to the right, the others to the left, even though she was certain they could have walked straight through it, like ghosts.
The trio was moving towards them. Cole’s grip on her arm squeezed even harder, and this time she made a noise. He pulled at her, nearly yanking her off of her feet, flattening himself against the brick wall of an old deli. Myra saw why he was so scared then.
There were more shades appearing around them, balls of realities forming and curling together, allowing singletons, and duos, whole packs of wandering shades to materialize into existence. They filled the street and the sidewalk crowding each other. Realities collided in ways never meant to be, and Myra felt the reverberations through the lines. And she could hear them.
None of them made a sound. Not a peep, or a whisper, or a shout. But she could hear them all the same, a dry hiss in the air, that held words that she would never understand.
And she could feel them. Feel the sadness and fear. Some were merely perplexed. They didn’t know where they were, maybe they saw the same things she did, maybe they moved alone in their own worlds without another living soul. Some despaired. They were lost, and had no hope of finding their ways home. Some were angry, shouting at the world, at the others they could see, raging at the universe. Some held no emotions, only emptiness. They had wandered for so long.
All of this poured into her as she pressed against the brick wall, no longer caring about the grip on her arm that would leave a bruise in the shape of a hand print. She could hear herself breathing, quick gasps trying to suck in all the oxygen she could get before the shades could steal the air. She could hear Cole, he was crying. Not sobbing, or whimpering, only a low moan soaked in tears.
As quickly as they were there, the shades were gone. Their lines fell and drifted away from each other, each of the realities returning to their own worlds, or to some other line. She felt them leave, some abruptly, others faded more slowly until there was only a shadow and whisper, then nothing.