The expanse of the sky and the vital orb of the sun were unknown concepts to Wilbur Swinburne. Likewise the people of his universe were unaware of infinite space, the stars lost in the depths of vacuum and dust. His world was enclosed, labyrinthine, except in his most primal dreams. The faintly glowing points of illumination, arranged on the ceilings of the countless open spheroid spaces, metal caverns, conduits and tunnels, were Wilbur’s only contact with light. The organic was rare too. In the mile high steel caverns of the Borderlands bathed in a synthetic and dank luminescence, there were jungles teeming with swarming life forms. But hardly anyone went there; the Borderlands were feared, hated by some. Small pockets of vegetation in lost rooms and corridors, even whole caverns were rumoured to exist but these only increased his terror of the flesh...
Continue reading Sins Of The Flesh on my short story blog, Tales Of Terror, Tales Of Wonder.
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