This Is Refulgent

This is as far as you can go.

I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, to be the bearer of bad news, but there isn’t anything beyond this. This is the edge. The end of the line. All along, they were lying.

All along, the world was flat after all.

It’s so easy to forgive them for their slight. It wasn’t their fault they neglected to mention this tiny fact. Maybe, as far as they knew, the world really was spherical. Before we corroded it, burned it into something misshapen and unnecessary. It might have even been as blue as they claimed. Perhaps it was all wishful thinking on their part.

We all long for something different than this.

Kick up the yellow dust and wish for vegetation where there is only desert. Breathe the red mist, spores thickening our lungs like tar, and wish for fresh air. Pay our fees for clean water and taste only the chemicals that went into it. Purifying something that was already pure, once. Just like how the world was once round.

Just like how the world should be round.

Jagged strips of life make up the border. A city, rotten and indulgent, is the final boundary between what remains and what does not. That’s all there is now. The creeping infection and fast decay of a sprawling metropolis. Forever vacant, regardless of how high the population. Too many people, too many fools, yet never enough. Nothing will ever be enough.

Welcome to the End of the World.


Editor’s Corner

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