A Walk In The Clouds 〈TRENDING〉

He walked for what felt like hours, or perhaps seconds, through a gallery of his own life. He saw the first archway he ever built, the stones shimmering in the mist. He saw the face of his wife as a young girl, her laughter rendered in a flurry of ice crystals.

Elias tried to speak, but his throat was full of the heavy, cold mist. He reached out a calloused hand, his fingers trembling. As he touched her shoulder, the cloud beneath them began to thin. The weight of the world—the gravity he had lived by for fifty years—started to pull at his boots. "I can't stay, can I?" he managed to whisper. A Walk In The Clouds

He looked down at his hands. They were still the hands of a stonemason, but tucked into his palm was a small, perfectly round pebble—not made of granite or flint, but of a white, translucent stone that felt as light as air. He walked for what felt like hours, or

"You’re late," she said, her voice sounding like wind through chimes. Elias tried to speak, but his throat was

Finally, he reached a clearing in the vapor. Standing there was a small figure, her back to him, staring out at a horizon where the sun was beginning to burn through the haze, turning the white world into a sea of liquid gold.

The village of Oakhaven didn’t sit on the mountain; it sat within its breath. Every morning, the world disappeared into a thick, silver-white silence that the locals called "The Veil."

He headed back to the village, no longer walking away from the clouds, but waiting for the next time they decided to descend.