Into the void

What Lies in between

The day was a beautiful one, the sun spread its golden rays across the sky softly kissing the city with warmth. A light breeze blew through the streets and raced around corners as it gently hugged the civilians.

The hustle and bustle of the people, the chirping of birds, and the groans of machinery created an atmosphere that lulled one into relaxation. It seems so cruel, one of the most beautiful days of the year for a city usually suffocated in grey clouds would be the day in which I was told that my lease on life was coming to an end.

Sitting in my car as I drove from the doctor's office after my last round of aima exáleipsi therapy or A.E.X for short, I couldn't help but pull out another agent of death from its packet.

A.E.X was a recently discovered treatment method for a new rather disease called Choteluy. The doctors said it was caused by the rise in pollution contained within the air.

It affected blood production in some manner that I didn't fully understand. All I understood was that I basically had super Leukemia. Rolling the cig between my fingers while waiting in traffic, I searched for the lighter in my pocket.

It seemed to want to evade my grasp, its efforts were futile, nothing would stop me from running to my death. As I lit the cig the streetlights turned green, I dragged hard on it as I drove forward.

Before me, the sun had started to set, and its rays seemed to be stained in blood. I recalled the meeting at the doctor's office, she wanted me to stay, to continue a treatment that we both knew was futile. The cancer had grown too powerful, claimed too much of my body as its territory. The chance of getting rid of it was too low and my mental health was on the verge of collapse.

All the treatment would have done was continue my suffering.

No, I wouldn't continue the treatment, I'd rather live my last days of life quietly drinking tea and reading books. Perhaps even one last rewatch of Gurren Laggan to cleanse my mind, another drag of the cig, and my lungs exploded into a flurry of coughs.

Drawing breath was hard.

My hands shook.

My throat tightened.

The car swerved.

I stepped on the breaks and the air erupted with the sound of screeching tires.

My vision was blurry, my throat was dry, insults were thrown by the drivers behind me, but their voices were distant.

My hands were shaking, I was soaked in sweat and my vision was blurry. I could hear a ringing in my ears.

Their anger was unable to reach me in my current state of confusion. As my mind started to clear I continued to drive, continued to smoke, and reminisced on my life up to this point. The almost fatal incident fading into the back of my mind.

Irrelevant.

Honestly, I was proud of what I had accomplished. I'd built a multimillion-dollar business by the age of 22, started to live a life of exploration and fine dining by 23. At which point I had started to build my long-missing social life but that was cut short. 24, I only made it to 24.

"Fuck."

The cig was finished I threw it out the window, grabbed the next one but the lighter was dead. After another 10 minutes of driving, I arrived at my apartment complex. It was rather luxurious if slightly plain, just how I liked it.

Entering the reception hall I walked past the receptionist to the elevator. The usual greetings didn't come, people tend to avoid those close to death as if they fear that they might also get infected. I'd grown used to it after a couple of weeks. I can't hold it against them, they're only human.

As the elevator ascended, I couldn't help but stare into the mirror. My face was gaunt, my eyes tired and dead, my head bald and I looked like a skeleton with skin stretched over bone. My fingers were like sticks and when I spoke my voice came out hoarse.

I stood there for over a minute, then two, then five, it was only ten minutes later that I managed to tear myself from the mirror. Exiting the elevator, I went to my apartment and immediately entered the kitchen.

Stress eating was a rather new habit.

I had a simple dinner of pasta and pesto while drinking a cup of earl grey tea. There wasn't much I was in the mood for doing, even video games had been unable to keep me interested. Checking the time, I saw that it was only 8 P.M yet I already wanted to sleep. Not out of fatigue but simply out of apathy.

Very few things were interesting anymore.

I decided against sleeping early, after all, it didn't make a difference when I slept, at least not anymore. Walking out to the balcony, I sat at a circular table outside. I'd prepared another cup of tea for myself, the book "An interview with the devil" also accompanied me outside.

Reading had quickly become one of the few things that still interested me, but whereas in the past I preferred novels of heroes and fantasy, hope and light, now my interests had turned to the darker side of things. To books that spoke of darker subjects and taboo secrets.

Quickly I grew entranced by the book, it was only several hours later when I finished it that I emerged out. I'd finished drinking my tea and the city had started to quiet itself. The moon had emerged, and the empty void of a sky covered the city like a blanket. I sat there for a while as I began to ponder what I would do for the rest of my admittedly short life.

The business that I had created I would sell, all that was required was that I sign some forms. The apartment complex that I was currently staying in was owned by me, the profits were in the low 7 digits. It would stay in my possession under different management.

My remaining relatives who were still alive meant nothing to me and since I hadn't spoken to them in years, I saw no point in restarting communications.

As for my new friends...

The less said the better.

Tears streaked down my cheeks and I started in surprise, I was crying.

"Fuck."

"Is this the end?"

Quickly I wiped the tears off my cheeks, I steadied my breathing.

Looking up into the sky I felt despair creeping through my chest, my heart was heavy, and my sorrow was rising.

Suddenly a star started to fall, a trail of light flying out behind it. A shooting star, when I was young, I used to wish for the most inane things but even then, I had never really believed in their powers. But now in this moment of weakness, I wished with all my being, from the depths of my soul.

"Give me the power to change things to make my own life, to end this curse that is my cancer!" I howled into the night like a beast starved.

Falling to my knees I stared up at the sky and hoped.

Nothing changed, of course, nothing changed.

In my moment of weakness, I had fallen to delusion.

Grabbing the teacup and my book I staggered back inside, slamming the sliding glass door behind me. I dashed the cup into the sink and threw the book onto the kitchen table before rushing into the bathroom.

I washed my face as disappointment crept up.

Disappointed at what? That some bullshit that you knew wouldn't work didn't work?

" f**k you."

Oh, I had fallen. Looking into the mirror my grief-stricken face stared at me and quickly I looked away, I couldn't look at myself. I left the bathroom and stumbled to the bed as exhaustion added to the storm of emotions currently ravaging my being. Sleep did not come easily; it was only at around 4 in the morning that I managed to slip into it.

When I opened my eyes, I was floating through a void, there was nothing as far as the eye could see, just me floating. Was I dreaming, everything felt so real, my vision was so clear?

I still had five fingers and when I pinched myself, I still felt pain.

"Am I dead?"

"No, you are not." A voice replied, seeming to come from every direction. It was deep and laced with power.

"Who is that?" I shouted looking around to see if I could find the source.

" Show yourself".

"That would be most unwise. You would be wiped from existence by viewing any form of mine." Disbelief was my first reaction but my second was to calm down and analyze. Whatever the situation I was in it was safe to assume that whatever that voice was had more power than me.

I was at its mercy, provocation would do me no good, but I was curious.

"Are you God?"

"Not in the sense that you are thinking, I am not your maker nor the creator of this universe. Who created this universe I do not know nor care. But in a sense, I am a god, my power is infinite, and if I so wished I could be omnipotent within this universe. Usually, I tend to reside in between universes. The creations of others never did tend to interest me. However, that is not the point of this little meeting."

" Then what is the point," I replied slightly anxious, hopefully, whatever it wanted was not detrimental to me.

"I heard you pray, which in of itself means nothing. What was surprising is that your prayer pinged of me. I could hear it from outside this universe. That still wouldn't be enough, but you've intrigued me and as such, I wish to give you a gift."

I was skeptical, I didn't know what alignment this being fell towards, but books of mythology taught me enough to be wary. "And what is the nature of this gift?"

The skepticism must have laced my voice because he replied with" There is no need to worry if I wanted something from you I would take it. You can't exactly stop me. No, this gift is without ill will, I simply wish to grant your wish and see what you do with the power I offer."

That's it?" I asked.

"Yes, indeed that is all."

He was right, if he was as powerful as he said he was there was nothing I could do, plus I had but a couple of months to live.

"Sure, I accept your gift."

....

A ray of light slid through the blinds and washed my face in warmth, my eyes fluttered open. I was back in my bed and felt no different than before, my body was still weak, my chest still ached, and I still craved a smoke.

Rolling out of bed I slid into slippers and went to the bathroom still bleary-eyed. Looking in the mirror I saw the same visage as yesterday no different, but the dream had felt so real.

Why'd I have such a realistic dream, they weren't supposed to behave like that I know that for a fact. Ah well, it is what it is, whining about it won't make it change. As I turned on the faucet I froze and stared at my palm. Right there in the center of my hand was a black circle, how did that get there?

I tried washing it off, but it wouldn't leave. Now unless someone sneaked into my room and drew a black circle on my hand with a permanent marker, then this should be related to my dream, right?

Once again, I felt hope but quickly, I squashed it down.

Hope is poisonous, reason would lead.