TITLE: Alian

The structure swells gently from the earth, a bulbous pod of polished obsidian, all curves. Its surface ripples faintly, like liquid catching moonlight, soft edges blending sky and Windows? eyes—wide, curving along its hull, glowing with an inner pulse that’s not quite colour, not quite sound. It hums, low and warm, a lullaby from somewhere far. No doors, just an opening that sighs open when you think about entering, inviting without words.

AUTHOR: Graeme Gordon (Australia)