A Moment of Clarity

This is a short story I'm basing a series of illustrations on for a gallery show. It's the first story I've written in a long time. Be ruthless, so I know how I can improve as a writer.

         A Moment of Clarity

The sky was a luminescent blue sheet draping the park. A brisk air coursed through the veins Lovers were meeting up. Within the revelry and camaraderie, there was a young woman seated on a withering bench. Her mind was cluttered with questions of self-doubt, of being a very small speck on a very large stage.  She had attempted to drown this numbing doubt through fiction, but it only drove it back temporarily.

As she glanced up from her book, she noticed that the various pedestrians throughout the park were starting to twist and warp in unnatural ways. Faces began elongating. An old man's limbs were starting to droop down from his torso. One gentleman seemed to be seeping into his dog. It was almost as if they were clay being tugged by unseen hands.

Everything began to blend together into some crude, pulsating form. People's faces were blending into a homogenous pulp. Pillars of churning flesh began stretching outwards, wrapping themselves around the singular spot of land she was sitting on.

The landscape was fading into the shadows as the tendrils that had once been human coiled around on either side. A storm of light shot through her vision, further obscuring the scene. Radiant colors never before described circled the bench. There was a comforting, yet obliquely terrifying notion about this.

For one moment, she was everything. She was a black hole, a singularity, both a destroyer and creator. She could feel an intense heat and collision of colors. Her clutter had collapsed in on itself in the deafening hum of silence.