Aaron glanced out to the pink and orange sky outside his window. There were giant birds flying out there, birds made of metal and chemical feathers and hearts made of iron. Occasionally there were people perched on them, wearing armours that looked like steel pressed into fabric decorated with tribal markings. Absent-mindedly, Aaron started making a sketch of one of the bird riders as they looped around the sky. Yesterday, he'd interviewed them, in the guise of an everyday journalist. They laughed and openly mocked him for how wary he was of the birds, but eventually they took him for a drink and tell him more than enough to make his reports.
I am having so much trouble writing, these days, I might need some help.
This is part of a completely ludicrous story I might or might not be working on.
