The following is from a science fiction and fantasy mashup short story I’m working on, which I’m called “The Dream Machine.” I’ll likely change the title later. We’ll see. This is the first paragraph:
A shadow swam across the frame of his vision, obscuring the charred hills beyond and turning the flames licking the sky into crimson eyes in a black mask. Where was he and what was he doing here? He knew those hills as if he had been there before, as if his feet had stood on this very spot, toes playing with the ash carpet, churning the dirt and spilling seeds into the renewed mud. The chutes of grass and little sunflowers sprang up between his toes as if in greeting.
What do you think?