World Of: Smudge

He drew a circle around his own heart. A boundary. A promise. It wasn’t a wall to keep others out, but a shape to let himself in.

The inhabitants are Smudglings. They have no hard edges, no fingerprints, no definitive profiles. A Smudgling is a suggestion of a person. If you look directly at one, their features bleed into a kind, familiar blur—like a loved one seen through a rain-streaked window. Their voices are the sound of a radio playing in another room. world of smudge

One day, a Catastrophe occurred. A cosmic eraser, wielded by some impatient child-deity, swept across a quadrant of the Smudge. It didn’t destroy it. It cleaned it. A perfect, sterile white void appeared—the Anti-Smudge. Smudglings who drifted too close felt their beloved grey blur solidify into painful, splintered shards of clarity. They saw their own edges for the first time and screamed. He drew a circle around his own heart