Amid Clouds and Bones

by Ella Fields

Dark wonders were fun to imagine until they became all too real.

“You’ll need to forgive my son’s lack of manners. He was born upon a full moon, and I’ve been unable to rid the audacity from him ever since.”

Nightmares of clouds and mist, cloying as I tripped over bones and his laughter gave chase from the inescapable sky.

Not the right context for the word "cloying". I've noticed quite a few authors doing this in the last five or so years. 🤷🏽‍♀️