Kristen Keenon Fisher
Bio
"You are everything you're afraid you are not."
-- Serros
The Quantum Cartographer - Book of Cruxes. (Audio book now available on Spotify)
Stories (59)
Filter by community
Protocol A.R.I.E.L
The gravel crunches under the tires as Elias turns his truck down the narrow path that leads behind the old house. His parents' shed sits at the end of it—wrapped in tentacles of ivy. The tin roof has bowed under decades of weather; the corners dark with moss.
By Kristen Keenon Fisher2 months ago in Fiction
The Veiled Dominion: Episode II. Content Warning.
The Circle of Thorns The air in the lower archives is thick. The lamps burn low. Solenne moves slowly through a chamber alive with static energy. The sound of a thousand glass tablets whispering back and forth saturates the air.
By Kristen Keenon Fisher3 months ago in Fiction
The Breath and The Dream
The Breath and The Dream (Recovered fragment, origin predating the Codex of Breath; scribe unknown.) Before time was counted, She lay within Herself. Darkness and silence were one, and that oneness was peace. Then She stirred. Not to speak, but to dream. The Dream was Her body unfolding—rivers became veins, stars Her twinkling thoughts. But a dream cannot live without breath. So She exhaled. And in that breath, the Dream gained form and began to think itself real. Thus the world was born, a breath mistaken for a voice, a thought believing it had woken. We are that breath. We are that mistake. When the Mother sleeps, we move through her dreaming. When She dreams, we call it living. But when She breathes again, and Her exhale meets her own reflection— The Dream will remember that it was never separate.
By Kristen Keenon Fisher3 months ago in Fiction
The Veiled Dominion
The Night That Fled Before the Breath, we lay beneath Her dreaming. The sky was shut, the seas unmoving. No hunger, no death—only the droning of her sleep. But the Mother exhaled. And the light penetrated shadow, seeking its reflection. From that reflection came thought. From thought, fear. From fear, the first heartbeat that was not Her own. The world opened its eyes— And sleep, frightened by the loss of silence, fled into the Deep. We chase it still. Every night we close our eyes, And beckon the dream we once were. Yet the truth endures: We are no longer the dream. We are the dreamers. And She—” (soft exhale) “—She is the dream.
By Kristen Keenon Fisher3 months ago in Fiction
