Phosphorescent Orchard Prime

Every color intensifies until it is as if the sun lives within all things. The truth of this becomes most apparent when night tries and fails to claim the orchard, every flower and tree glowing eerily in defiance. There is only day here. Fuchsia leaves, lavender toadstools, golden hanging moss, powder blue apples, silver grass — this is a forgotten otherworld once dreamt of by little girls who love unicorns and little boys favoring pink. Maybe you. Overgrown and untended, nothing is as it should be. Every color is "wrong". Confused clocks draped over branches melt into puddles of water scattered across the ground, reflecting blue and clouds despite the canopy blotting out the sky. All the animals seem more human than you, even the glass-bellied tardigrades with their transparent bodies, insides on display.