a horizontal promo card, showing the threshold of a door, slightly ajar and you can see warm light of the interior
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The title of the story: The Threshold
P (patreon logo) Lucid Illusions
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To cross it without an invitation was a violation of the Great Laws, laws my siblings reveled in breaking. And me… I did not want to break; I wanted to belong. I smoothed the heavy wool of the coat I had stolen from a clothesline, tucked my extra long limbs into the shadows of the fabric, and waited.
Inside, I could hear the clink of a teacup. I was at a limit—reaching a level of loneliness where the pain of being ‘other’ finally outweighed the fear of being destroyed. If I stayed with my family, I would wither in the cold silence of my kin, who knew only hunger and never names. I could feel my pulse, a rhythmic thrumming, slowly reaching the frequency of a frantic heart. I was ready to settle for the smallness of a life measured in minutes.
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