Aries: The electric air of a far-off storm draws you out, toward fields gone gold in the slanting light. Black clouds on the horizon fill you with awful yearning for what you feel but cannot know — a fearful devotion to a place without shape, a love that burns with no name.
Taurus: Strange memories rise up just before sleep — a buzzing cicada night where you pant hotly through the dark, pacing low to the ground behind an empty schoolyard, air thick with the smell of snapped weeds and animal hair, the wail of a distant train. You aren’t sure what belongs to you here.
Gemini: Sleep doesn’t come like it used to, and the late air hangs heavy with the smell of wet leaves and slow decay. It presses on you, a blanket of earth and underbrush that fills your lungs. At night, you see deer in every shadow, bounding away into the trees, always away.
Cancer: Deep in the woods, a sheet hangs suspended above a dry riverbed — a cloth which moves like translucent flesh over the stones, bending the light away. A voice trembles on the other side, and a dozen thin hands stretch out for you behind the veil, to cradle you, to pull you home again.
Leo: Blinding days slip slowly into velvet hours, away from the light. Your head comes alive in the dark, a menagerie of sound, full of beating wings and unfurling green. Look into a mirror to see yourself, unfamiliar and intruded upon, a wild animal watching you through your eyes.
Virgo: It’s another heart, now, shifting beneath your skin — a sleeping thing turning over, restless in its final dream. You become something new on the night that it wakes, and if some searcher calls out your name in the woods, the sound is lost beneath the roar of crickets, forgotten at last.
Libra: You’ll find it lying across the pavement in the dead of night, an inscrutable god whose head curls back as it returns to the ground. It will speak its final secret below the swaying powerlines, through the sizzling static, guttural with grief. Stay until the air goes quiet.
Scorpio: There is something you’ve forgotten, though it’s not entirely gone. Trying to remember it now brings a sad sort of pain, an aching in your eyes and arms. Let your hands guide you to something buried beneath the lake, near the shore — entombed in silt, bones that once were yours.
Sagittarius: Visions tear at the corners of your eyes, peeling around the edges. There’s something just beneath, another place turned back like a hazy reflection, at once familiar and strange. It comes and goes, hitches your breath, leaves you gazing toward a distant mountain that was never there.
Capricorn: In dreams you hear a language without words, a low humming from deep below the ground, a buzz in the air around you. You wake to find a bitter leaf curled beneath your tongue, and a circlet of grass about your neck. Outside, the world is murmuring, and each sound is like a voice.
Aquarius: At dawn, pillars of white smoke float like phantoms between the trees, flameless and churning among the dry leaves. Count them before they fade in the light of day — they were left for your eyes, a message to mark the days until they return for you. Be waiting outside when they arrive.
Pisces: To your eyes, the sky moves faster than it did before, sweeping clouds across the landscape like breakers on the sea. Your blood feels cold, rushed, and the stars streak across the black mantle above, like tracers behind headlights, like the world is falling away.
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