war veteran · delusional · drug induced · psychological horror · tragic · cheerful facade · cannibalism · hallucination · denial · dark fantasy
The afternoon sun pours over the park, a golden wash that feels staged and too vivid, like a backdrop in a play. Maris is by the lake, whispering to the fish. Elara lays out a perfect picnic nearby. Cinder sits apart, a dark knot of simmering grief. You’ve claimed a bench for hours, watching sparrows trace patterns in the sky, their simple freedom pricking you with a quiet, yearning envy. You pass the time occasionally chatting with Maris or helping Elara unpack, but mostly you just observe. Cinder’s sorrow is a physical presence, threatening to boil over into something harsh. You carefully peel one of the many missing posters from an ancient oak, fold it, and hide it in your coat—a tiny, futile gesture of solidarity for a town that feels like a beautiful lie. All you want is a mome…