Word Count: 175
Mean spirit, harsh words, no end on the horizon. No place for the ocean and the sun to meet, so my eyes cried another sea. I drizzled bitter amber everywhere, and painted the whole world in shades of mud and gray.
Alone in my room at last, I contemplated the perfect cocktail. Apple pie moonshine with fresh hemlock, on the rocks, blessed elixir of peace and eternal sleep.
I settled for a few cups of the shaman’s magic tea, and soon a technicolor dragon rolled across the ceiling and handed me a lavender dream.
I ascended the night sky and landed on a marshmallow cloud where angels flew by, and was greeted by a band of smiling jinn.
Home at last in the shadow of His mercy, we stripped away the pain of the mud-streaked world, and rejoiced by the light of the fragrant moon.