Falling Inward

Falling Inward

Samuel Bird

The following is a short story I couldn’t decide if I should put into a book of it’s own, or put it here. The subject matter was wearing me out enough that I choice to put it here. 

Chapter One

He hurried up the icey stone steps to his small room and quickly closed the door behind him. He hoped being home would begin to warm his nearly numb extremities, but found the room no warmer than the frigid winter night he left outside. He hurried to the fire and threw in the last of the kindling, yesterday's paper, and striking a long fireplace match, tossed it in. He threw his hands over the flame in anticipation, hoping it would begin to thaw out his hands, but the flame died out from the down draft from the chimney. He struck another match with frustration before more methodically lighting the paper and blowing on it. 

The flame finally took and began to lap bright orange flames against the now grayed pine as he stared at its flickering. Like a show at the theater he could not afford, it marveled him with a wonder that stole him away from his life, from his worries, from his thoughts. Thinking of thoughts, he turned to the present concerns of his freezing as the fire began to warm up and to the stresses of the day. How was he going to be able to make the numbers work? 

It was such a little bit for the books to be off, but Mr. Gusev was a cold and strict man. He knew the warnings of any more mistakes and what it would entail. Then where could he go? This flat was the cheapest he could afford as awful as it was. The pipes froze and the draft cut through the frame of the single window that came into the room, but as his only option it had a necessity to it. He had not saved enough to afford a move anywhere further outside of town. He knew very well when he took the job that he was trapping himself into it, but there was nowhere else to go. 

He looked at his old armchair he had received at his father’s death as one of the only objects in the room other than his small mattress on the floor, the creaky desk and wash station behind him. A reminder of a man he had not quite figured out. The fire had now taken off on its own and needed no fanning. He stepped back and slouched into the chair just as the convecting heat illuminated his long dark jacket. He rubbed his thin hands together and huffed a breath of warm air into them just to find the stench that came with it.

He stared at the fire as the centerpiece of the place and possibly the only live thing he ever saw outside of work and strangers in the street. He had made an effort to make friends at the bar, but was only left with spending money he didn’t have on alcohol that dumped him right back into his troubles when it ran out. Few men were to be found to be friends as they had gone to war and the women had no interest in a thin and sickly figure that was clearly completely unnerved to talk to them. He wished, despite his efforts to avoid the draft, that he could have been picked. To die in battle seemed to have something to it. It was clearly just as meaningless, but at least a few soft-minded patriots would salute him as a hero as he was laid to rest. 

He felt to his thigh, the other reason he had no emergency funds to speak of. He reached down to grab the book who’s corner was digging into his leg to pull a ribbon he had found on the street between the pages to open to just where he left off. He prepared himself to jump into a bright and adventurous lie, full of societality and meaning as he pushed up his glasses and began to read. He pulled into his mind’s eye, the rich world he had built for the character and premise, with recommendations from the author. Back to the jungle full of tall grasses and vine covered trees as the hero blazed a trail through them toward the treasure. 

More than to hear of another, he felt a desire and even need to see himself as the adventurer. All that he didn’t care for in himself and all he desired as the warm forest and animals bled a full and life filled atmosphere. He tried to push out the world he had seen around him with its contrasting unwelcomeness and bleakness. The world of caves and heroism faded from his mind as he was taken back to his office to fret over the missing funds. He now wished he had taken the money, no matter how little, just so he could deserve the hell that would come tomorrow. 

Then when the saliva from Mr. Gusev’s mouth flew toward his thin face, it could have a slight smirk knowing it got even with him, even if it was preemptive. 

He lifted the book back up to his face to escape the world he wished to end as his eyes fluttered across the words again, but his mind was still not pulling up the scene of the jungle. Like a domineering master, his mind pulled him back to that bar, to the moment he saw a woman with a beauty so distinct and mysterious, it caused his heart to hurt with a deep yearning. In his fear of the desire, he lost the rhythm of breath and step needed as he came to her and tapped on her shoulder. Her warm smile turned to him as it became more ambiguous and curious. 

“Hello, I... My name is Vadim. I thought you were...” He choked up and turned to cough quickly as he tried to catch his breath as it ran away in its beating. 

“What may I call you... If I may?” Without a word her mouth smirked back into a smile, but this was not the warm one from before. Her brow furrowed as she turned toward her friends and as she came out of sight from his unmoved view, he heard the cruel giggling and whispers of her friends. He stayed there for a moment, staring at the wall that she stood before. 

What did that moment mean? In her lack of interest, what was really said, or at least what did he hear? Did she mean to tell him what he felt, that he was not worth the breath in his chest, the blood in his veins, and the thoughts he considered? Without a word she wrote or at least put her stamp of approval on an old script he ran in his head. His small hands reaching up to his mother to be ignored, calling after the boys in the neighborhood to wait up as they ran off, the silence of his father during his last days. 

Each memory came back to him as a form of how things were. It felt foolish for his character to upend a very old script, but perhaps his character was the fool. Then why did he continue to play the role and read into that script? Perhaps the actor within him was a fool all the same. He took a breath and refocused his eyes on the paper, but the second smile of the girl kept coming to his mind as he set the book down beside his thigh once again and leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. 

The silent roar and crackle of the fire was the only sound to turn his mind to the world around him as he breathed and clenched his face to rid himself of the thoughts. A brutal and violent sound filled the air with the elements of a shriek, rumble, warcry, and crushing, as he reached for his ears. His feet against the floor felt its shaking and creaking as the chair soon followed with a growing pace. He looked around to see where he could go, but the walls had now taken the floor’s lead. 

His thin and still cold hands gripped the arms of the chair as it began to slowly tip forward and the floor to shake more violently. Floorboards below cracked and fell down into a dark hole; he couldn't see the bottom as his chair tipped forward more before it jerked one last time, dropping him into the hole. He was falling inward. 

Chapter Two

He fell forward and landed a few times his height down onto a dirt floor as he tried to breath through the dust being caught in the air. He looked up to see a small stream of light from the room above, but it was only through the small window, but there was no way he could climb out through it, as the dirt hole around him was much larger. 

To his side, flames from torches burst into flame as he jumped. Now that he could see around him, it made no more sense than his guesses in the dark. It was just dark brown dirt in a large hole carved out with no clear signs of how and the torches to his side. The only other thing in the room was a round tuft of long green grass with thick blades. He looked around the room again to see how to get out as he heard a voice. 

“Finally.” It said. 

“Hello? Where are you?” 

“I am before you fool.” He looked down at the grass as it began to sway with no wind to push it. 

“The... The...” 

“The grass, yes that is me. Not very good at the process of elimination are you?” 

“But how?” 

“Don’t ask that, you don’t even know what makes you talk, so you certainly can’t know that I can’t or worry about how I do. Really, you know nothing.” 

“Where am I?” 

“My point exactly. You don’t know, you can’t know. All you do is suppose. You suppose this and suppose that, but in absolution, that is all you could ever do.” 

“Please, where am I?” 

“Not that you deserve an answer and I know to give you any information or grain of truth would be to give poetry to a dung beetle, but I will tell you. You are in the other half of all being. Equal in size and complexity as well as mystery and horror.” 

“Compared to where?” 

“Do you not know where you came from?” 

“I know, my home, my town...” 

“NO! You are an absolute waste of thinking and thought. There are more towns than two, but there are only two of these places I speak of.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“And the beetle winces at the prose of the book only seeing paper where ideas lie. I am without any surprise of that.” 

“Well now, I will remind you that I am a man and you are grass. I am greater than you.” 

“Is that so? Then why does my kind blanket the earth below the sun as your kind hides under roofs in its scarcity. You don’t get it and you never could. You are as short lived and dated as the flowers you pluck from me as I blossom. Kept to see and enjoy, but shortly withered and gone.” 

“I am twenty seven years old. I am no doubt older than you.” 

“I will teach you to talk back to me. Your kind runs from moment to moment with so many to observe, and yet none to know. You behold things as nothing more than the representation of a thought in your mind and then you are on your way. We stand in valleys below mountains memorizing every crevice, angle, and shadow throughout the day. We see things as they are, but not you. In your effort to know all, you know so much nothing, so shallowly.” 

“I don’t have to take anything from you.” He stepped forward to stomp on the grass as a blade shot out and wrapped around his arm as the plant began to grow. Now starting to tower over him, its branches coiled around his arms and legs and lifted him up toward a flower that had just blossomed. 

“You must not know where you are.” The flower said as it pulled his face toward it. 

“This is not where you reign.” The vines began to pull on him hard and harder as his joints felt the pressure and he began to scream. 

“If you have lost the world you came from, how would you ever survive this frontier? This is a violent, rage filled chaos and below its bright red pain and suffering is an empty blackness of void. There is only horror and lies, and you will come to find yourself torn between the two as they break you down from a simple fool to a hollow one.” 

The vines pulled and pulled against his limbs as he prepared to die a horrible death. He looked up at the bright red flower that was his unforeseen end one last time just in time to see a dark shape jump toward it and tore off the flower in one bound. He fell to the floor as the grass went limp and he looked to the shape to see it was a large gorilla that walked briskly toward him, grabbing his wrist before he could realize what was going on. 

“He is over here, I got him!” The gorilla yelled as another gorilla ran to his other side and grabbed his other wrist before he could jerk it away. 

“What is going on?” He asked as they began to lead him toward the dirt wall as it collapsed at the pounding of the gorillas fist to show a black room that went on in every direction with only a small stage with a podium and a series of benches. As they led him closer, he found every bench covered by all kinds of monkeys and apes from chimpanzees to bonobos and from marmosets to gibbons. At the front of the room was a large orangutan with an annoyed and proud look on his face with a large powdered wig and black gown draped over his shoulders with no neck to speak of. The judicial ape grasped a crude gavel and beat it upon the podium. 

“Disorder, disorder in the court!” He bellowed as all the apes and monkeys went from their lazy silence to a gossiping murmur. 

“We got him here.” One of the gorillas said as they shoved him toward the judge. The Orangutan leaned forward and looked down his nose at him. 

“Your name?” 

“My name is Vadim.” 

“Wrong, your name is Tobo.” 

“No... My name is Vadim.” The judge nodded at the gorilla still standing to his right as it slammed its fist into his gut, stealing away a few good breaths of air. 

“So Mr. Tobo, looks like you have really been up to a lot here. Or rather, not nearly enough. I can’t wait to name you guilty, but I do love a formality.” 

“What am I accused of doing?” 

“Everything.” 

“Everything, that is ridiculous.” The gorilla lunged toward him, but only to make him flinch as a reminder. 

“You are guilty of everything that has ever happened.” 

“How can that be possible? I have only been alive twenty seven years and have stayed in the same county most all my life.” 

“And what did you do with your life?” 

“I am a bookkeeper.” 

“What else do you do with your time?” 

“I read books.” 

“And?” 

“That is about it.” 

“Not a very impressive schedule. This is where the issue lies. Bring in the first victim!” The judge yelled out as a small, gray haired spider monkey with the dress of an old lady came out. 

“Ma’am, proceed with your testimony.” The judge said. 

“There I was in my home trying to cook supper.” She began with an old and quivering voice. 

“I looked outside to see that something was on my petunias, so I ran outside to see a log had fallen from the tree above it and crushed them all.” 

“I haven't even been here before, how could I cut down the branch?” Vadim responded before the judge cut him off. 

“I think you miss the point. The log crushed her flowers and you did nothing to stop it.” Vadim went quiet as he tried to fathom what he just heard. 

“You must be joking! Accused not for a crime committed, but for not stopping one?” 

“Well of course. You are a free and conscious being. Why shouldn’t you be? Now ma’am, what did he not do next?” 

“Many years ago my old husband ran off with another woman. Right after that I got very ill...” 

“Hold on.” Vadim interjected. 

“Is she just going to go over everything bad that has ever happened to her?” 

“Well, she would succeed at it too, if you would just quit cutting her off.” 

“No, I don’t have all day to listen to this.” Vadim said, trying to talk over the unruly crowd. 

“She is just the first one, so this will take all the time you have such that we probably won’t need a sentence for the likes of you.” Vadim looked to see everyone in the crowd writing on pads of paper with pens as the officers handed them out and the crowd grew as far back as the eye could see. 

“No, this isn’t fair.” 

“Fair? What does that have to do with a court? You may know Mr Tobo as a chimpanzee, though an ugly and hairless one...” 

“I am a human named Vadim!” The judge just looked at him before beginning again. 

“There is no fair in the jungle. There is only pain and loss. Someone needs to be responsible and it needs to be you.” 

“But why me?” The judge leaned over the pulpit again, but this time much closer and more menacing as the room grew dim and he spoke in a quiet tone. 

“You really don’t know? This doesn’t feel familiar to you? You know what you see in yourself in the quiet moments you share with no one. You’ve seen behind the curtains and what makes you tick. All the facade, the ruse that you put on, a lie to conceal the horror, the vileness which you are. When the hour is late and all other’s gone, you are left alone to feel it. All the bad that has happened to you, all the misery you feel, the emptiness you carry with you my boy, all part of yourself carrying out its own sentence, and now it is time for justice to come due.” 

Vadim had prepped an argument in his mind to say that in the case of him being responsible for the ladies husband running off, if he stopped it, he would commit an injustice against the new mistress and therefore couldn’t even logically possibly stop all injustice as much of it was people at odds. Now, however, something horrifying and cruel in the judge’s words resonated with a broken sliver inside his mind. 

“This, Mr Tobo, is why you are responsible for all this. Your malice and deep egoism has not only kept you from helping these people, but removed a desire to start.” 

“Much of it came before I was born. How could I change that?” 

“Make an apparatus to travel through time if you have to! Beg, borrow, steal, whatever it takes. You let all the atrocities that have ever happened take place and it is now time for the verdict!” 

“What about the other victims?” 

“It is clear your heart is too dark to hear their woes. Might as well get this over with. Justice strikes now and it strikes swiftly and with a vengeance. I sentence you...” The judge stopped as he winced. 

“To the fall!” The limitless crowd of monkeys had stopped chattering and were silent with a few gasps for air. 

“The fall?” Vadim asked. 

“I know, it gives me no pleasure to give you the worst of all possible, but such is the law.” 

“Well hold on now, it isn’t too late.” Vadim said but the judge's face just melted to the ground. Vadim turned to see all the monkeys melt away as he lifted off the ground and became weightless and the void around him began to twist and coil itself. 

Chapter Three

Despite there being nothing and it having no color or form, he watched as it contorted itself in and out, side to side, slowing and speeding. He watched as it grew until he could see the minute threads that made up nothingness in remarkable detail. From the smallest unit of nothing came something as it gave way to a cascade of deep magentas, cyans, and as still that black. He had long since let loose and gone with the moving as he fell and fell until he came down to nothing and no more. He came down to the bottom of being allowed. 

Words could not describe what was below him because it was not only not something, but didn’t have the decency to be nothing either. He had come to the lowest of all things and non-things. As he looked up he saw a soft yellow light. He breathed in as he realized wherever he was, was an absolute where nothing more could be done. He breathed in a breath as he tried to consider himself, but he wondered what was left to consider. What had he used to consider himself before now? What he did, experience, and from what others said about him. 

He couldn't move, all he could see was that little light, and he was alone. So, then what made him something at all, let alone to know what exactly that was? The only thing he was doing now was perceiving and thinking about himself, but take away that, what was he? If he stopped thinking of himself, would he slip from this box of dichotomies to not exist? Perhaps he no longer existed and that is what it felt like. As far as he could tell, maybe this is what it is like to longer be. 

He felt to mourn himself, but there was no him, to be left to feel the sorrow. He simply wasn’t anymore. He let that fact sit with him as at least that fact got to exist when he didn’t. He came to grips with this death of the depths of himself as he considered back on his old life. The memories and the moments that made up what he called his life. However, if he now couldn’t be sure if he is, because he can’t experience, then he really never was and from that, perhaps he never really experienced. He tried to fight the thought as it ran through his head. He never existed. He never existed. He never existed. 

It looped over again and again as the stage lights and smoke that made up being a human slipped behind the curtains to show there was only the illusion and no credits as to who put it on. He never existed. He never existed. He never existed.He thought it over and over again as his mind couldn’t break from that path of thought. He felt like a child again when his father would punish him so he would act out more, feeling out of control and stuck in a loop he could not get out of. The thought raced through his mind as it bounced and crashed around flying faster and faster until it felt like his brain could not hold the thought from destroying whatever he was now. He yelled out to find his voice was with him, and if a voice than a body. 

“Hello.” He heard a voice respond to his scream. 

“Who are you?” Vadim asked the voice that seemed to come from everywhere and yet nowhere. 

“Everywhere you go.” 

“You follow me?” 

“More than that?” Vadim breathed as he realized how far the facade of his character had fallen apart. 

“Are you a part of me?” He asked with some hesitant fear. 

“I think so, but I don’t think you’ll ever truly let me.” 

“Well, who are you?” 

“I am old, very old. I am the oldest part of who you are with a task so important that you could make a case for me being master more than you.” 

“Then who am I?” 

“Whatever lies you have come to tell yourself that you are. Maybe you got some ideas from your society or memories, but still you make it up. You are no one.” 

“I think I am someone.” 

“Vadim, my friend, I see your thoughts and can feel your fears. I know you don’t even believe that. If you are truly someone, why do you change so much from moment to moment? Not only how you change over the years, but the cycles of what lie you show for what moment you are in? And why? Because you want to get something from this world, some validation and belonging. You sold yourself out and for what? You have no people and you feel just as unsure of yourself. You give up what you really want to your kind won’t kick you out of the tribe you don’t truly belong in. This morality you fool yourself with, nothing more than the lie you live to sell your will to the world in weakness. Why not give it to me.” 

“And who are you?” 

“My name is Verhext and I am the part of you that has no sentiment or tenderness to slow my efforts. Unlike you, I won’t give into what people ask of me and then hope I get what I want. Others are nothing more than the step to tread on to get what I desire and I will get it.” 

“No, people matter more than that.” 

“Mr. Gusev’s old pen knife he keeps in his drawer, how hard would it be to find its way into his back when he turns? How easily your loneliness and isolation could be taken out on a passerby in an alley deep into the night as you steal the life from them you have never had the privilege of living. No need to wait for the touch of a woman when you can grasp and take what you want.” 

“No!” Vadim yelled as he tried to move in the box he was in as it seemed to collapse in around him. 

“Give me the power! I will get what you want!” 

“No!” 

“Someone will suffer at my hand, and if you won’t allow me out, I will tear us apart from the inside.” He felt something reach toward his eyelids and behind to pinch them and pull them away as he screamed and tried to move. He then felt a pressure on both eyes as it twisted until it felt his eyes would burst. He began to struggle more but before he could move, what felt like large hooks ripped between the bone and tendons on his ankles and wrists. The hooks then tightened, pulling him out. A cold blade touched him in the dark toward his breast as it pressed deeper and pulled down diagonally toward his pelvis as it gashed open. He Felt his innards seep out as the hooks pulled tighter. 

“Why won’t you give it to me?” Verhext screamed into him as he writhed. 

“Because what I want is not what matters most to me!” Vadim worked all of his strength together and lunged forward free of the hooks and out of the sides of the box toward the strange light before him. He slammed into it as a board as wide as the box he was stuck in right above non-existence flew up. jump

He then jumped out as he looked around him to see a graveyard lit with torches, candles, and skeletons all around. 

“We got another one here!” One of the skeletons yelled out with a tall top hat. 

“By goodness, he looks right fresh. His flesh is barely broken.” 

They were each carrying large glasses of beer they shoved at him. 

“Sip up young deadling.” Vadim grabbed the beer and began to drink to come back from the box and its horrors. 

“Are you ready?” The other skeleton asked, but before Vadim could say anything, a deep and rhythmic music with a tribal tone and driving beat came across the party scene as everyone began to dance in a primitive swaying and jumping. With little thought for why, Vadim began to dance along with them as he flailed and jumped. Another skeleton, this one with a long ratty beard against his jawbone came up to him and faced him as he danced. 

“It's all a game.” The skeleton said. 

“It's all about spheres. Everything in its sphere.” Vadim nodded though he didn’t know what it meant before another skeleton with a dress with a large yellow bow danced before him. 

“Just a game. All in its sphere.” It then danced off before a toweringly tall skeleton danced across from Vadim as he became more manic and began to sweat. 

“It's just a game we play, within its sphere.” Vadim felt a sense of ritual. 

“It's a game and a ritual.” He added back before the skeleton danced off and another came to him. 

“All a game you know. It won’t matter outside of this sphere.” Vadim nodded. 

“Everything, just a game. Doesn’t matter out of this sphere.” The music picked up pace as everyone danced faster and faster and with an ancient wildness he thought man left when they made society. He began to dance harder as crowds of skeletons passed him. 

“It's all a game, all of it.” One would say. 

“We are just in one sphere alone.” Another would add. 

“A fun game we play. Just a sphere however.” Vadim would add as more came and the process repeated over and over again. He felt this wildness within him rise before he danced up in the air so high, he could see a lake out in the night. The music continued to play, but it died to him as he quit dancing and stared at the lake. It was a mystery to him and held something so forbidden, it was only natural to want it most. 

He walked from the light and warmth of the party as the music faded and lights were lost in the forest he walked through. He came to the edge of the glassy lake as the bright purple stars reflected across it making both the sky and the earth look like only sky. He stared out at it with an intense wonder at its deep cold brutality. There was something about the lake that felt sharp to him. Like the wonder at the prowess of a sword’s blade, but still a fear for what it would do. It called to him, to a deeper part of him. It had this beauty akin to the beauty he met at the pud, this beauty so intense, it made his heart hurt. 

He wished to crawl outside of himself and join this beauty, never to be brought down by the ugliness that made him up, but could he keep being if he no longer resided in himself? He didn’t seem to care. Ugly and boring had worn on him until his need for the beautiful and poetic superseded his will to life. Something, anything like this lake to be beautiful. 

He wondered if the lake would be just as beautiful when the sun came out. Would it be green with moss and brown with silt? Would it look just as nice with a hazy sky reflecting across it rather than to look like the slow carousel of lights on glass it did now? No matter to him at this moment. All the more reason to join the beauty before it could fade into a sunrise. The lake called on him and tugged at his heart as he closed his arms as he felt moved. 

He opened his eyes again to find that he was no longer just on the bank of the lake, but seemed to be within it. All he could see were stars all around, but he could not tell if he was under water. He looked back to where the shore had been to only find more stars. He tried to breathe, but he couldn’t tell if he could or not. He could not tell if he was above or below the water as all he saw was stars and stars. He began to twist with an intense panic as he felt splashing that showed he was in the water, but where was his head? Could he breathe? 

He began to panic as he could finally feel just in time to feel a large swallow of water that he had tried to pull into his lungs in panic. He reached for his throat and clawed at his chest as he tried to feel life within him before it slipped away. In panic, he reached his hand in his throat and began to claw at it, but only managed to make himself vomit as he choked on it. He mouthed the words. 

“I think I am really going to die.” As the animal within him began to give up on fighting back and he felt resided to die. 

He began to fall back into the water, ready for whatever this all was to be over. Before he had fallen all the way back, something awoke in him. As if within an old and noble beast like a rebellious stallion or a wild lion offered to join him in his fight. He granted it permission in this moment of choice that seemed to surmise all of his life well as the noble beast became him and slammed his fist into his chest as hard as it could. 

He spit up the cold lake water and vomit, before the beast within him then launched itself toward a shore it seemed to have willed into being there. Before he could make it to the edge, a wave and boulders rose up before him. The beast that had awoken tried to fight it off, but it could only have as much strength as he did. He began to fall back down as he could not resign himself to where he got a sense of the depths taking him. 

“Vadim!” A voice called to him before a large and mighty hand pulled him up out of the waves and onto the dry land he had searched so desperately for. On land, he caught his breath as he looked up at the figure who owned the hand to see it was a large shape in a heavy brown cloak. Before he could thank it or ask it as a voice of reason, it turned away and walked from him. Only now, could he feel how cold he was. 

He began to shiver as he walked back to the cemetery party, only to find a dark and old forest there. He sat there in the forest looking up at the stars. He felt no closer to understanding what was going on and where he was, much less on what he should do now. He still was no less sure of the mystery of what he was, nor could he put it into words, but the concept of the noble beast that rose up to save him from death resonated with him. He thought back to his father. It wasn’t the death alone, not all parents die, but it was the cruel and subjective irony that went with it. It wasn’t that his father was someone that was warm to Vadim and cared for him, but the thought that he could have been. All his childhood, to reach up in a simple and innocent love and only to have no arms to reach back, no arms to hold him, no arms to cradle him in the dark nights. He knew all the technical answers, but they gave no comfort alone. 

His father was cold and bitter from his time in war. He understood this, but he still needed something and quite simply didn’t get it. Those arms never turned toward him in open embrace, and he could see no reason now why any arms would turn to him. That old tragedy of a script came to his mind as fate pressed and broke him into character. And for those moments where it truly felt the story would change, could be better, his character didn’t have the lines and backstory from it and had to shirk away from that which he desired most. 

“Father!” He cried out. 

“Mother! How can I believe anything more than what I know from you? You thought and lived before I was conceived, and I came up into all I knew through the shudders you closed too tightly. I hate! I don’t want to hate you, but I do hate. I let that hate fall down on myself, my life, my own world, but I won’t let myself hate you. Or should I? What would it do to say that I don’t want what the baser parts of me want, but what the core of me needs will never come.” 

The words came from him like a cannonball from an enemy fortress. The gunpowder was packed and the fuse lit. It was clear it needed to blast something, but not wanting to cause pain, he felt something within him jerk the cannon at the last minute to launch off into the water. Here it was, the pain and what had caused it. Like a dog beat too many times from barking, he floated through his life like a quiet shadow. A shadow that only surrounded itself from darkness and from that and being unseen became bitter and cruel, filled with rage and hate. 

Though it had not seeped out the sides of his mind into his action, it was clear it was close. Any day pressed to tragedy with irredeemable guilt, he clenched up his heart to force in the hatred. But now, he was a noble beast. A strong creature that seemed to prance with a sense of rocky pride around the fields like the great stallion by his home. Running through the field with a sense of life and vitality that gave it freedom and majesty no matter how small the fenceline of the field. He felt a rebellious strength within him that desired good, but not for the accolades of humanity, but from an overflow of its might. The fears, the belittling, and weakness faded from himself as he felt no temptation to be threatened, as he felt powerful. 

“Vadim, the noble beast!” He yelled out into the forest, knowing well it would attract whatever horrors had given him the gift of waiting this long to bring random chaos and horrors upon him. This newfound beast needed its wilderness.

Chapter Four

Everything morphed and he looked around him to find he was in a group of explorers, each with a pack on their back, gear attached to their belts, and a feverishly optimistic smile. 

“We’ll find it before too long, ol’ Vadim.” Vadim nodded with a confused smile. He didn’t recognize this man, or any other part of the troop, but they seemed to know him and they might be offended that he forgot them. 

“What are we to do with it when we find it again?” Vadim asked, trying to ambiguously find the aim of their travels. Another of the troop, this time a woman, turned to him with a teasing grin. 

“The museum. We would take it to its exhibit that’s waiting for us now.” She said with some level of annoyance. 

Vadim was pleased he was walking toward the back of the group, as he had no idea where they were going, and what this thing they were after looked like. He began to do a head count of everyone there. There were five other travelers, two women and three men, and a large yellow dog who swayed from side to side as he carried his little pack. The first man who talked to him was tall with a thin frame, a sickly face, and thick spectacles. One of the other men was short, burly, and slightly less sickly, and the final man was of some local seeming descent and wore little more than a cloth around his loins. The first woman who spoke was barely large enough for her uniform as she stood well below Vadim’s shoulders and despite this seemed to be perfectly comfortable leading the group. The final woman right in front of him was a quiet African woman who seemed to be the least well-packed in a long flowery dress, but the most at ease. 

He looked around to see the thick jungle all around them. Scarce noonday sunlight could find its way through the canopy of trees and from every direction was the chirping and fluttering of some monkey, bird, or perhaps a jaguar. The small woman at the front, sliced her blade at an old game trail that had grown in, to make room for their small band of people. The plants were unlike any he had seen before with a vibrancy and warmth without rival in his native Russia. 

“And a, it has been a while since I knew last, where are we going?” Vadim asked. 

“Not any closer to somewhere from when you last asked.” The woman in the front jested. 

“Be nice Sansa.” The tall sickly man asked. 

“Chu, what are we closest to?” The man in the loincloth seemed to fixate on every word to make sense of them. 

“Locuchadam.” He said with a questioning tone in his answer, still not being sure of what was asked. 

“I have never read of such a place in my studies.” The tall man turned to Vadim. 

“Lost, my old friend. We are lost from the world and knowing where we are, but we are ever closer to our treasure!” Weary arms from around the group raised in celebration as each let out an unconvincing, “woooh.” The weariness of the travel and focus to watch for creatures hiding in the bushes kept Vadim from talking much more. 

They wandered through the woods toward some goal that he still did not understand. Under his sore feet passed stone, brush, grass, mud, an occasional stream. Through the thick trees, he could see the outlines of mountains that had no scars of villages or homes to show his kind had dominated this land yet. One single large mountain came into view ahead in the direction they were traversing. They came to the base, and without stopping for rest, began the climb up. Other than the thin tall man, everyone seemed to be in good enough health and Vadim, even with his long legs, struggled to keep up. As the mountain began to plateau, there was a larger cliff above them, and at the base of it, a series of stones laid out in an order only possible by humans. 

As they got closer, Vadim saw a large, strange figure, towering over them. They came to it and spread out as they beheld what their journey was attempting to culminate in. This figure was nearly twice the height of Vadim. It had some ancient dark cloak over it that was covered in moss. Its face was dark and where the eyes were supposed to be, were only holes that seemed to never end. Chu walked forward as he pointed to a small stone box at the base of the figure. Sansa lunged forward and met him as she took her blade to pry open the box. She blew into the box to expel the dust as she reached her hand in, and pulled out a shape Vadim couldn’t see in the cloud of dust. She pulled it toward her chest and turned to them as she wiped it clean. She smiled a victorious smile as Vadim saw that it was a golden statue of a golden cat with jewels encrusted all over it and large ruby eyes. She held it over her head as everyone screamed “Woooh'' again, but this time with real zeal. She walked toward everyone as they admired it. The tall and thin man began spouting facts as the burly man blurted out that 

“It must be worth a fortune.” Sansa smiled as she opened her satchel and began to put the statue inside. Chu shot forward and began to talk in a language unknown to Vadim with an intense speed, a raising voice, and a fear in his eyes that transcended language. 

“What is he saying, Winston?” Sansa asked the tall man. 

“I can’t understand him, he is speaking too fast.” Chu began to say the same thing over and over again more and more frantically until he locked eyes with Sansa. With a look of desperation, Chu pulled out an obsidian blade and darted toward Sansa with it outstretched. Right before he could get to her, Vadim heard a thunderous crack to his side. He turned to see the burly man who had a smoking revolver in his hand. 

“Thank you, Russell.” Sansa said as she caught her breath and Russell nodded quietly. 

“How peculiar.” Winston said. 

“He was so peaceable and agreeable.” 

“Did you get anything he said?” Sansa asked. 

“I figured out the last thing he said over and over again, but it makes so little sense, I don’t know what to do.” 

“Well, what was it?” Russell piped in gruffly. Winston looked confused and fearful himself. 

“Hollow man.” Everyone was silent as they considered what this could mean. Vadim looked back at the cloth-covered figure with the eyes light wouldn’t meet. 

“Look, there is a paper on that statue.” Vadim said, pointing to it as everyone looked and walked closer. 

“Was that there before?” Winston asked as Sansa got closer to see red ink spelling out “Don’t leave.” 

“Where’d that come from?” Russell asked. Sansa looked confused and shook. 

“I think we will make camp for the night and leave first thing.” They headed toward a clearing a hundred paces off and set up camp. After dinner, they all made plans for the journey back home and though they were still sad and nervous about Chu, they talked about how excited they were to present this item to the museum. The yellow dog lay down next to Vadim as he lay down and closed his eyes. Whatever this was, he was sure when he awoke, that he would be on to the next world or scene. He was only confused at how much less horrible this scene was. He closed his eyes with a sense of security and drifted off to sleep. 

He felt himself come awake when he felt himself wet and reasoned that the rain must have drenched in from the sides of the tent, earning the rainforest its name. He wanted more rest but knew he needed to get dry before it made him sick. He sat up in bed and felt the moisture on his hands. Rubbing his fingers together, he found it thicker than water. In his fear, his eyes shot open to see his hands covered in blood. He looked to see the dog he was next to was now disemboweled with its entrails strewn about. He began to scream as everyone woke up to see what he was looking at. Everyone backed away to see the blood was all over them as well. 

“What the hell is going on?” Sansa asked. 

“Did Chu’s people do this? We should have buried him last night so they’d never see him.” Russell went to the dog, dropping down on her knees, and began to cry. Winston patted him on the back. 

“I’m sorry ol’ chap. To say he was a good dog would be to underutilize good.” Everyone stared at the dog in horror and disgust. 

“You,” she said pointing to Vadim, 

“get wood so we can make a fire and at least have some smoke to scare the mosquitoes away.” Vadim got out of bed and walked up the hill to find sticks as he walked uphill. He walked past the large clothed statue and began to reach down to pick up sticks, but as he did, he noticed the paper on the chest of the statue was different. A realization came over Vadim as he ran back to camp. 

“I think I know what is going on.” 

“Do tell.” Sansa hurried him. 

“I think we are being punished for not obeying the rule we saw on that paper.” 

“Absurd,” Russell said. 

“Who placed it there?” Winston asked. 

“I don’t know,” Vadim told them. 

“And there is something else. It now has a new rule, don’t burn.” Sansa scoffed as she knelt down and made the fire. 

It comforted everyone to know they could act in rebellion, but they all worried that they would all regret it. They packed up camp and spent the day’s expedition. They made camp not too far away and set up once again. They lay down and went to sleep. In the morning, Russell’s torso was torn open with every rib pointed in a different direction and his organs popped and scattered around them. In horror, they went back to the statue to find that it now said: “Stay.” They were all lost and confused but pitched their tents again. In the next morning, Betty, the African woman, was now dead in the same way. They were all lost and wondered why this had happened, but came to the consensus that each day’s rule compounded. 

On the chest of the beast was the new rule, “Don’t speak.” Nearly all day had passed in silence until Winston stubbed his toe and shouted “blasted.” They each looked at eachother and Winston lied down for the night, accepting his fate. Each day was speeding up in its horrors to Vadim as time lost out to survival. The next day, Winston was shredded and disemboweled. Vadim spent the day digging in silence to bury the mangled corpses. Sansa and him walked to the statue to get their commands for the day. “Don’t think,” it said on paper. 

Sansa became furious and stabbed at the statue’s chest. Her blade only parted the cloak to show nothing inside. Sansa became feverish and ran to the camp, grabbed her satchel, and placed the golden cat inside the stone box. It was the best thing she could think to do. In the night, Vadim could not sleep. He had his back turned to Sansa as he heard the large steps of something he could not see as he heard the ripping of flesh and bones before she could scream. He lied there in silence and straining to not think. The next morning he went back to see the new rule, “Don’t move.” Without a second to hesitate. 

He stopped exactly where he was and didn’t move a limb or sinew. He stood before the statue as it came to life in its lifelessness. It stepped toward him as he didn’t move, speak, or think. It simply extended long clawed hands from the cloak and ran them across his belly. He didn’t think, move, or speak. The creature then knelt down and stared into his eyes, but Vadim kept them pointed forward. The beast moved its eye sockets in front of him as Vadim saw the moonlight reflect back nothing. The beast went right back to where it was. The next morning were the words, “Don’t live.” He began to shake, think, and yell out. 

“How can I keep this? What else could I try?” He collapsed down as he lay there waiting to die. 

“Come at me Hollow man. Tear me apart.”

 He lay there until night when he heard the steps come up behind him, or at least, where he used to be. His body was now a shell to adhere to the authority of the slayer. He lay there as those steps once again approached his back. There was no will left to fight, there was no thought to prompt, and there was no one to help. He had lost his will to choose from his will to live. As he heard the claws extend out of the hollow man’s ragged sleeve, he did the last thing any cold and scared animal does before he dies. 

He began to retreat away from where he was into another place in his mind. He felt some wall in his brain crash down as another one arose between himself and his world. He opened his eyes again to find himself in a field. He couldn’t find any reason to think it was a field he was or one he escaped to in the far outlands of his mind. He looked ahead to see a warm summer breeze choreographing blades of grass and yellow flowers to spin and flitter. He walked forward with closed eyes and hands descended down to feel the blades of grass gently slice across his hand. He breathed in a breathe and felt the heads of the grass go through his hand. He fought desperately to feel the reality of where he was, not knowing exactly how real it was. The wall in his mind became a door and began to unhinge as he did. The field was now dark with only dead grass and wilted flowers. Across from the moore came the Hollowman with his long, dark cloak flowing down into the fog. Vadim turned to run to find he was now trapped in a bog. He tried to pull one leg up to find the other would only sink further. 

Chapter Five

“No, give me that lie. Not where I am, but where I want to be.” Vadim screamed as he clenched the door in his mind and closed it again. Back to the field and the gentle swaying of grasses that meant no ill will. Across the summer showered fields, a road, and a traveler. He ran to see who would occupy this better land he willed himself to be in. His now clean shoes hit the pebbles of the road as he saw the figure approach him and saw her face. It was the face that sponsored a rejection so deep, he had followed their example since. He turned to hide his face and walk away, but she called after him. 

“Vadim, my love, don’t go from me.” He turned around in time to meet those eyes that’s mere surface glistened with the vibrancy of a stilled ocean as he wanted to explore the depths. 

“My love, please stay with me.” 

“But, you didn’t want me.” 

“I know, I am sorry. My love was so deep I was nervous for it to spill over. Please don’t leave, stay with me.” Vadim looked at her delicately pale features framed by soft brown hair. Perhaps it was the starvation for affection he had felt all his days, but no pride could rescue him from this. 

“Yes, yes I will stay.” She smiled as she grabbed his hands and looked into those eyes. The look on her face was happy, happy at what it saw. But, what did it see? In the blue of her eyes he saw an old image he hated, the image he showed the world. How was it that she and her beauty could look upon him and wish him anything other than death. The whole of the mountain ranges could topple over, the sun could dink below its nightly rest below the horizon, and the seas could boil over. For a face with this beauty that could pull on the ventricles of his heart to look at him and seemingly, 

“it is well,” this brought into fruition every good dream that the universe could offer. There was no more need for him than that moment. And to the question of whether or not he and his life was worth perpetuance, in her eye, in her joy, in that love she spoke without language, she answered a question he thought was best answered by a rope swinging in the rafters. His smile lit upon him like sunlight. 

“Oh be damned with any sunsets.” He thought. There was nothing more to be wanted or needed after basking in those eyes. He turned and began to walk with her, hand in hand as they made their way through the open valley that seemed to offer a possibility. The old script fluttered its pages and lines across his mind. He turned to seem to admire the mountains in the distance, but he was rather not wanting to see that face that affirmed existence and feared he had somehow lied to her in his entirety. Did she not know how wretched and unworthy he was? Still, for the sake of the aesthetic, he turned to see that face. With the hand not holding his, she brushed back a chocolate lock of hair to expose that same face better than any offered by deity. There it was, happy to see him. She seemed like no fool and as such, perhaps that was true to her love for him and he was in err. That face opened up something in him both primitive and the pinnacle of humanity. 

He would destroy anything that brought tears upon that face. No home was good enough and such, only the best would do. To meet God in the heavens and ask for a slice of His kingdom on earth for the living, was nothing less than what she deserved. She stopped and fell down into the grass as he did at her side. He looked up at the sky as it dawned on him he was touching her. He could feel her hand in his. The life that flowed through him needed no heaven as it was alone divine. He turned on his side and to her, to look at that face. That smile was there with every bit of life affirming property and with no loss of enthusiasm on his part. It seemed so greedy and so soon, but he wanted to kiss that face. It seemed to be a way to show that smile loved, but it had one issue. She would then be kissing him back and he was not sure if he could justify the reception. 

He turned to see a large yellow daisy. He grabbed it as it seemed to try to pull from him. He grabbed the head of the flower and tried to tear it from the stem, but he had to pull harder and harder until it finally came off. He rested the yellow flower on her bosom as a way of earning her love as he nudged closer to her and closed his eyes as he went to kiss her. While he moved toward her, the wall in his mind swung. He tried to slam it shut, but truth seemed to rage triumphant. He pressed on, but in trying to meet her lips, he felt only a warm cloth. He opened his eyes to see the dead grass and dark sky. There she was, with a gag in her mouth and hands tied behind her back. He bragged the cloth from her mouth as she began to scream. She twisted her body until she could stand and then began to run away from him. As she stood, a bloody clump fell to the ground as he saw the head of a yellow cat. 

He stood up, and ran the opposite direction as her. He ran as he closed his eyes. Before he opened them, the wall crashed again and he found himself in the flowing field. He stopped for a moment as he breathed. He wanted the truth, but he also knew what he wanted outside of it. He began to run through the field as the door seemed to clatter open and shut with the wind. The field of daisies, to a field with shapes in the distance running after him. The bright sun returned as the shapes turned to trees, but then back to those shapes and their policeman caps. Back to the sun basked field, and finally the policemen were all around him. 

He slammed the door closed in time to be in a clearing surrounded by trees. He got up and ran as the door swung and he collapsed into a room. He looked around at the canvas stuffed with straw lining the whole. He tried to move, but a white jacket was wrapped around him. He faced a door with a small slit. Two faces as familiar as ever graced the pane and led him to feel the pain. Each face was half of his in the duality of the sexes. A small slide was pulled over as the more masculine face began to speak. 

“You fiend and fool. You evil miscreant. Shame, you have brought on your name and line.” 

“Stop.” The more feminine face begged. 

“My little boy, he is only ill. There is no evil, only confusion.” 

“Then in his confusion, let him rot there. The masculine face said as it slammed the glass closed and led the weeping face of the woman away and with it, any consolation. Vadim didn’t know what was about him or what he was about, but he seemed to know the error he had made. The mind in its preferences, fancies, desires, and values seemed to overpower the delicate relationship it had with the world around him. 

The door swung open, and in walked a large gray owl. It stepped right in front of him with grace and looked down at him. Its large eyes seemed to search a soul he didn’t want it to see, and wasn’t sure where it was. 

“I’m... Well, I am not well am I?”

Its large eyes continued to look down on him.

“The lines are getting thin. It used to be easier to see where I ended and the world began, but I can’t tell. To whatever is real, I hope it knows my shame. I hope it knows I wished I could step out of myself and see it.”

The owl cocked its head and continued to look down on him.

“I feel pitiful. This place.”

He looked around him.

“I don’t know where it is, and I don’t know where to go to get back. And now, I wonder if I ever will.”

Vadim looked down and his chin began to quiver from the pain. 

“It got worse. It didn’t used to be this bad. I could tell when a dream ended with my waking, but it all seems as ethereal and fictitious as a dream. Not just a dream because I don’t know what’s real, but a dream in that I seem to have lost my inhibitions.”

The owl stepped forward, and grew larger. It spread out its right wing, and enveloped Vadim in it. He cried into the warm safe place made for him.

“I just want out, but now I grow skeptical to know where out is.” 

The owl curled its wings in tighter as if to keep him from speaking and instead to bask in the embrace. In a cold mayhem such as he was in, it was a tender release to  feel this safety and security for even the briefest of moments. Aside from consolation, it seemed to even make a part of his confusion redeemable. I did as the embrace seemed to do, and let go of thoughts for a moment. 

Chapter Six

The walls fell and the world below him rose up as the moore became mountains and the bog a valley before a lake. The mountain towered over the pristine lake in such a way it seemed delicately balanced between falling and rising at all points. It stood as an obelisk of strength over the collapsed and surrendered serenity over the lake. Vadim collapsed to the cold hard sandy ground scattering with small rocks. He found himself naked, and now fully away from the cold. He curled his legs up to his chest and his arms around his legs as he stayed on his side. The ground seemed to pull all the heat from his sore and tattered body. He shivered as it came to him just how low he was. 

There was no shelter, fire, or even clothes. He was no more than the stones that scattered the ground. He was only special in that he was miserable to be there. He realized how little of the structure he built his character was real. The grandiose nature of the facade came to him as he felt arrogance slip away as an option and in its stead a lowly and open curiosity. He heard steps toward him as he mustered the strength to be present and respond to whatever came back. The steps came slowly up to his back as he waited to turn to fight or run, but in his weariness he couldn’t find it in him to respond first. He felt a soft pressure come over his whole body as a large brown fur skin was draped over his thin and shivering frame. He pulled it in as he felt its embrace and nearly cried. The steps then walked a short ways away before stopping. Finally, his body heat no longer escaped from him and the cold couldn’t steal it away. He tucked his legs in further as rubbed his feet. He felt a simple security that may be stolen away at any moment, but to feel it ever was to feel it at all. A single tear slipped down his cheek to have the safety and compassion bestowed by a cruel land. 

“You may stay laying there for as long as you wish, but you mustn't stay any longer than you want.” A deep and concerned voice bellowed at him as he rotated his body under the warm skin to see the same large character in a large brown cloak, only now could he see its face. He had a large nose with a bump in it, a long tapered and wiry gray beard, and a brow that formed the same expression of concern his voice expressed. 

“Who are you?” Vadim asked as he snuggled up in the blanket feeling like a small child, solely dependent on the parent for survival. 

“The face turned with a weary and knowing smile. 

“I am the prophet.” Vadim was grateful to get such a straight answer in this land, but still didn’t know what it meant. 

“A prophet to who?” 

“The prophet of this land and connecting it beyond. I connect this land with something more than itself, something more than words can say, something divine.” 

“And this land, where is it? Where am I, I keep racking my mind?” His smile went from kind to mysterious and teasing. 

“Your answer is in your question. I think you know where you are.” 

“Where?” 

“The other half of all that is, well as far as you are concerned. The world ignored, but just as much of a wild and unknowable frontier as anywhere else.” 

“And what am I supposed to do here?” 

“Supposed to? It sounds like you are looking for an authority.” 

“Then who is in charge? You?” 

“No, I am nothing more than a messenger from a land before words and to a place outside of being.” 

“Then who?” The prophet turned more toward him and bowed. 

“My king.” He said with reverence. 

“I reign over this land?” 

“Well, we’ll have to talk about that.” The prophet went quiet as he turned to look up at the sky. 

“Here they came, the northern lights. Quick, we must go. I guess you need to get up after all.” Vadim stood up as he followed the prophet toward the lake below the towering mountain. As they came to the shore they found a small boat with a dark and old burled design the prophet jumped in and launched off just in time for Vadim to jump on board with his long skin around him and thin legs exposed. The prophet extended his palm down as the water began to move past them. 

“There it is, the beauty.” Vadim looked up to see the prophet's large and powerful arms extended up now with one hand outstretched to the sky, and the other pointing up. Vadim looked up as the majesty and the beauty enveloped him. This was not a beauty to cause pain or jealousy, but when that filled him with reverence to ever see. He began to think, but as words began to fail him, he began to think before words. With a sense of an essence of something ineffable, he soaked in the divinity of the rich greens, blues, purples, and the hues they made up as they interlocked. They came down toward them before the glowing lights came all around the boat as the boat began to ascend up into the sky, past the lake, above the mountains, and now looking over the land below. He looked down to see it all, the hole in the ground, the open courthouse, the box in the cemetery, all in view. He didn’t know why it mattered, how, or even if. 

“Do you know all that has happened to me recently?” 

“I have the gist.” 

“What did it mean?” 

“Only God knows.” 

“You are the prophet, you tell me.” 

“And you are the God of this land.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Where you come from, you are just a being in your world, and there is not God, but you are God here.” 

“If I was God, why do all these things happen that make me feel out of control?” 

“Not even God’s get what they want all the time. You can control what happens, but you just haven't done it yet.” 

“How do I?” The prophet breathed in deeply. 

“That is why I hoped to talk with you. I connect you to something more, and it thought you might need a reminder. Whereas a God can be all powerful over its world, you are all powerful here. You can do whatever you desire. You have, however, let this world do whatever it wishes. You have become a weak God. This world has even taken to controlling you. Rather than you making it into something great, it has become something random. It calls to you, begging you to take your throne and reign.” 

“And what should I do?” The prophet turned to him as the northern lights as their sea reflected on his face. 

“It matters less what you do, and more that you do it. That is the power of Gods. They do not wait for something to jump at them to tell them what they should do, they will out of a vacuum something great.” Vadim felt a sense of grief at his failings as he looked down. 

“Do not fret more than you must. I think all Gods wish to say sorry to their world’s, but the way they say it is not always clear.” 

“Then what do I do now?” 

“You take charge. You find something and start building this world into being. It isn’t chaos that makes a bad word, but not existing.” Vadim looked at the stars as he slowed all the thoughts that darted and rampaged through his mind as he looked at the stars and began to make them dance before him. 

“Ah, you see it now. Your power in here is without limit like the God to your world.” Their boat sailed through the stars as they formed shapes as they moved in time to the rhythm of Vadim’s heart. They swirled and jumped, swung and darted in a choreography that celebrated the revival of the god of this land. The stars slowed as he allowed them to fall into their natural place as he looked at them and allowed their majesty to tell something to his heart that no idea could. 

“I think it is the time prophet. I am ready.” 

“And where will you go?” 

“To the place that needs me most.” Vadim seemed to sense that the prophet could know his thoughts. He thought of the old pattern set before him in his early years and prepared a question he would not give an explanation for. 

“What script do I live?” Vadim asked

“I hope you like writing.” The prophet answered

The prophet smiled and nodded as he melted away into the ether along with the boat and the sky as Vadim found himself pulled back into the black forward. He now found himself in a field of grass and rolling hills. Above him was a sky full of red and angry faces against a dark background. They swirled around in between each other, devouring one another and ready to do the same to him. He knew how to affect the world he came from. He would simply act in it and it would change. But what of this world? How could he bend this world to his will? The faces grew more menacing and evil as they began to descend down from the sky toward him. As their fanged grins raced toward him, he stopped and closed his eyes. 

He knelt down and relaxed his body. He found this feeling of alarm within himself, and turned it off. He shut up with a victorious power as he stuck his arms out. He pressed his palms against the sky until the faces were pressed back into the atmosphere, and then out of being. He then saw only the night sky. He felt the swirling of thoughts and feelings in his mind. He beheld all, but heeded none as he found himself centered. He brought out this idea into the forefront of his perception. Out and around him past gorillas, blades of grass, the beautiful woman, owls, his parents, and a host of other characters that stood in for concepts. Each came from different and random directions. They each taunted him. The woman flirted, his parents were disappointed, the owl watched, the orangutan persecuted, the grass harassed. With the passing of each, he saw their power and what they could hold. They tempted him to engage with them before their coming from nowhere resulted in nowhere. He let each pass, to demonstrate his control. Finally, the prophet passed in his long cloak and gray beard. Vadim chose to respond to him. 

“I have found it.”

“And what would you say you have found?”

“That power that only I have over this world.”

“And what will you do with this power?” Vadim smiled as he launched himself from the earth to the sky above. He passed the stars and he remarked at their beauty. Perhaps if he combined each star to make a larger one, their beauty could mount. He did just so. He then scattered these super stars along a path stretching out from him to forever. All along, the characters nagged at him with tempting thoughts, but only the thoughts as he chose them did he listen. The grass reminded him to mind his hubris. The gorilla, how he treated others. The owl, how he would look if he could step from himself. There was no surety that this is what each sought to teach, but this is what he learned. He took matter and bent it to his will. Everything around him was amalgamated with everything else to create art in the sky. And from a thought, something that wasn’t then began to be. 

This world that he had been the insect of, what did it deserve from its new deity? Returning its evil felt like a shameful thing to do with the power, and giving into them would lead to ends that were against each other. Then what must he do? What must he create with this new universe he stood as the harbinger of all? Nothing must, but whatever willed. He began to write a script in his mind of a new story. Not one passed on, but one thought of with rich originality. Characters blossomed from the void into being, fought, labored, and toiled. Their efforts achieved little else than the meaning from it. He watched as their lives passed before him. He saw great beauty in first the tragedy of their story, and then in the marvel of their being. He found that what he had created was more than he was. Better than the writer of tragedies, he was no malevolent god. Neither was it simply sufficed into benevolence. Instead, he was one that created greatness. Not in terms of the lives he gave to his creation, but in terms of what these lives did to recreate them. The prophet came to him one last time. 

“Your bidding is good.”

“Thank you.”

“Any message for your creations?”

“Yes.” He thought for a moment. 

“Tell them to live a life that lets them conquer themselves.”

“What does that look like?”

“Tell them what you think, and ask them to figure it out more.”

“Very well. What else do you want for your worlds?”

“I am not sure what to create or what to do next.”

“At some point, you will have to go back to the world you came from. Being God of this world also doesn’t mean you can retreat from yours.” Vadim smiled and closed his eyes. 

His eyes opened gently, but peacefully. The fire had gone out. The room was cold. The book lay on his lap, with a page open to the story he had started. He checked his mind to see thoughts of Mr. Gusev and how he would make that right. Financial concerns passed by. He was reminded that he had not found love and was no more the closer. All he had was a cold room with a dead fire, and a book that he could run away into again. No. That was not true. He had something more. Himself. He was the great asset that he needed. He let each thought pass, he told some he would respond to them later, and then others that they had no place in his mind. 

The world around him was still one to be pushed around by facts of the world, but the world in him was on a vast frontier he ruled. In his triumph, he began to look around the room. His eyes found their way past the floor. His old home must have been in worse repair than he thought. There was a crack between the wood boards on the floor. He got down on his knees to look at it. Between the boards, he saw something that should not have been there. He saw a blade of grass.