Quantum Lapse: A Mind-Bending Visual Story w/ Trippy Cinematics
Please share & subscribe, appreciate you! https://open.spotify.com/artist/3q0KcTUD3hmRdi1SUWd6VL
Follow on SoundCloud for more tracks : https://soundcloud.com/grasspatchbum
Stacked with glimmering synth scaffolds and razor-sharp tech propulsion—building it (and the visuals) was a blast and a learning curve.
Keep in touch with latest releases:
https://www.youtube.com/@grasspatchbum
https://music.apple.com/us/artist/grass-patch-bum/1596136340
https://grasspatchbum.bandcamp.com/
https://youtu.be/tYX-BHm3V14
Support the tunes:
https://paypal.me/grasspatchbum
the Story
Orbit of Silent Moons
Page 1
Sand made of night itself stretched to every horizon, shimmering like powdered obsidian beneath a hollow sky. Nothing stirred—until a lone ember tumbled from the heavens, leaving a copper-red streak in the unlit firmament. The ember’s descent ended with a sigh against the desert floor, and the land exhaled as though it had been holding its breath for eons. Glassy ripples radiated from the impact, lifting grains of black sand into slow-motion orbits around a figure who had not been there a heartbeat earlier. Cloaked in tattered starlight, the Traveler knelt and cupped the ember. It flared, and the desert answered.
Rings of bronze light pulsed outward. Where they passed, pillars of translucent crystal sprouted like flora in accelerated bloom, refracting the dimness into auroras of impossible color. With each heartbeat the pillars grew taller, bending gravity so gently that sand began to drift upward in spirals. The Traveler rose, boots touching ground only out of habit, and stepped toward the largest pillar. Its surface liquefied, becoming a whirl of stormglass that invited entrance.
Page 2
Crossing the threshold felt like walking through a perfect reflection of wind—cool, weightless, and humming with hidden mathematics. Inside, time looped audibly; footsteps landed before shoes touched crystal, and whispered echoes preceded spoken words. The corridor narrowed to two panes of opaline stone that opened like eyelids exactly wide enough for passage. Threads of starlight stitched the corridor’s roof, each strand vibrating with memories that were foreign yet unsettlingly intimate: a cradle under twin suns, a farewell on a mountainside of polished bone, laughter that tasted of citrus and silver.
Then, without warning, warmth blossomed. Daylight—true daylight—rose from cracks in the floor, flooding the corridor with honey-gold brilliance. For a breathless span the world felt merciful, all colors waiting only to be chosen. But as quickly as it came, the brightness inverted; shadows flowed back in, repainting everything in midnight hues. The Traveler tightened fingers around the ember, which pulsed between minor and major shades like a restless heartbeat, then settled into a steady red glow. Ahead lay a gateway framed by stormglass whose surface quivered like water about to boil.
Page 3
Beyond the gateway stretched an endless curtain of sideways rain—each droplet a tiny prism chiming as it struck invisible walls. The Traveler stepped onto a platform of pure sound, ripples of bass underfoot, and rode the shockwaves. Space folded like origami with every crest, flinging the Traveler across continents of glittering dust in heartbeat-sized leaps. When the sonic storm broke, stillness descended: violet mist curled low, hugging a forest of silver trees whose branches bent away from touch as though shy. In the hush, even thought seemed loud.
Through the mist emerged reflections without sources—silhouettes forged from mirror-bright chromium, striding beside the Traveler in perfect synchronization. Two titanic leviathans joined the procession, their mirrored skins holding whole nebulas captive in their bellies. They marched toward a valley where gravity misbehaved: three alabaster moons hung motionless at battlefield height, revolving not in the sky but around a luminous void at the valley’s center.
A silent drumbeat tugged at every atom, and the Traveler, leviathans, and stray reflections were caught in an invisible current. The pull arranged them into a slow spiral, orbiting the void as if they were ornaments on an unseen carousel. In that whirling hush, private thoughts peeled free—secrets fluttering weightless between heart and mouth. The ember flared, eager, as if it could drink the unsung confessions from the air.
Page 4
Moonlight—though the moons made no sound—cast illusions of tides across the procession. Each orbit tightened, dragging every traveler nearer the luminous core. At the spiral’s heart, the void resolved into something heartbreakingly small: a pinprick of white fire, no larger than the ember itself. Understanding jolted through the Traveler. The ember in hand was not unique but half of a cosmic dyad; its counterpart waited here, held in perfect equilibrium by the silent moons.
As the two fires drew close, the worlds they carried inside began to mingle. Memories snaked between them like bioluminescent vines: children chasing paper kites above lavender prairies; engines roaring across cobalt seas; cities hammered from dream-steel that flickered between existence and myth. The leviathans lowered their heads, chests glowing brighter, and the mirrored silhouettes knelt in unified reverence.
At contact, the twin embers dissolved into a single supernova of prismatic white. Light exploded outward, shearing the valley’s silence with a roar that existed purely in the bones. The moons shattered into crystalline shrapnel and re-knit themselves as rings around the newborn star. Reality convulsed; the desert, the corridor, the silver forest—all folded inward like pages turning simultaneously, drawn toward the star’s gravity until nothing remained but brightness.
Page 5
And then—quiet. Not absence, but potential. The star shrank to the size of a firefly and winked out, leaving a velvet darkness so pristine it seemed freshly created. From that blankness, a single point of ember-red light flickered back into being, hovering where the Traveler had stood. For a timeless interval it hung there, contemplating the void it now owned, the memories it now contained.
Finally, the ember quivered, and gravity returned with a gentle sigh. Far below, a plain of glass-black sand re-formed, awaiting footprints; above, ink-dark sky healed itself, yet held the faintest scar of copper where the ember had first fallen. Whether the Traveler would return—or whether the ember itself had become the new Traveler—remained unwritten.
But legends already whispered through the newborn universe of a realm called the Orbit of Silent Moons, and of those brave (or desperate) enough to carry a star’s dying heartbeat into that hush, hoping to rewrite their own destinies in the fusion of twin flames. Somewhere, in worlds yet unimagined, listeners leaned closer to campfires or console screens, hungry for any clue of what might follow when the next ember fell from the sky.
the Gallery
Contact to purchase full quality images
