Stories About Things (7 page)

Muscles, work, damn you!

They refused. I could not stop myself from
seeing.

It was not blackness.

It was not dark.

It was empty.

Nothing.

I felt my own mind. It had one thought.

...dying?

Then,

No... no time...no time for death.

An arm reached around my neck from
behind.

For an old man, he was strong. Or maybe there
was no resistance in the void.

The exposed threads of the carpet scraped my
hands; the floorboards beneath bruised them. Then, the threads were
pressed against my face, scratching my cheek. Finally, I closed my
eyes.

Darkness. Blessed darkness.

"You should not see nothing."

I opened my eyes. The dim glow of the attic
blazed in an unbearable light beside the void, which still lurked
on the periphery. I kept it in the periphery. As I turned my head,
I did not let it enter into focus.

"Why is it there?"

"Do you think we live in a universe of things
where spaces exist between? No. Worlds are built in spaces--they
came first. Nothing came first. It is the pervading force. These
are mere islands we stand on. They float in oceans of void."

"And you keep it back?"

"You can't keep nothing back. I keep you
back."

"But–"

"Build walls. Build houses. Build things
between you and the spaces all around. Don't see them; it's built
into you not to."

"Then how did I..."

"It permeates."

The door clicked shut.

The floor was warm after the void, and I lay
on it, trying not to have seen the void.

There is a wardrobe in that corner now. It
collects dust. Spiders nest behind it. Mice use it as a toilet. I
do not clean there anymore. I do not see.

But I know, and knowing is enough.

I swam in the ocean, and brought water out
with me.

The spaces pervade.

Hey

I'm Aelius.

I write.

Come find me at
ww.CheapAssFiction.com

or on Twitter
@CheapAssFiction

~A