Beyond green grass spotted with white daisies, beyond hills that extended into large mountains, a young village was visited by the plague of scale.

The people of the village did not feel the plague creep up on them.

It started with pictures, one picture, two pictures, streams of pictures, thousands of lifetimes of unlived lives, documented in imaginary albums.

The huts grew higher, vertical lives rising to the clouds, the moon, the stars. The possibilities grew endless. Too much to do, but the plague would not touch time, which seemed to grow smaller and fainter. Not enough, it whispered.

To…


Maya Kreidieh

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