A solitary fiddlehead shot through the vast expanse of abject nothingness until the nothingness was no more. Something has arrived.
What that something was I could not tell you. The fiddlehead gave way to a fledgling frond as it strove to become the very thing I endeavor to describe, though it has not quite accomplished that feat at this time. Unfurling like a snake curling in on itself, the frond grew exponentially, bursting free one green pinna at a time.
Whatever this something was becoming, it was not a plant. It undulated like a plant in the breeze as it inched closer to life, but it was more a carbon copy of a plant found on the side of a road in a dream than any plant you may have seen–unless, of course, this is your dream. A forgotten plant where photosynthesis was not needed to make sense of miracles for the miracles we devise in dreams can sprout to be anything here. And in this instance the dreams resembled feathers more than cellulose constructions.
Ronaldo supposed he should stop taking his time and grow up already but he surmised he would get to where he was going eventually so why rush? Hurried growth seems like a natural disaster in the making when you’re nothing more than a feathered frond. The individual feathers sparkled and shimmered in every variation of green mortals can see and a few only immortal cryptids could deduce as they began to rustle. Ronaldo peeked out behind the feathers first as a dot that grew outwards into a small bulb.
The bulb shot through the sky, twirling higher and higher as if climbing a playground slide and grew until it blinked open. A yellow eye pierced the darkness, illuminating the dreamscape to Ronaldo as he shook his head. Feathers floated softly around him, framing Ronaldo’s face.
Ah. Something has arrived at last.
—
Each day she swore she felt closer to the door. That perhaps today she would place her hand on the handle and step outside. Greet people using mouth sounds instead of typed words. Every day she knew it was a lie, but today she woke up and realized she was inching her way there. These moments were collecting to something bigger than she could picture and until the next step unfurled she always had Netflix.
(e)Reader 