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Closing his eyes, about to take the final step.
Nobody else knew about this. Nobody had seen him begin this journey, this quest, this life. It had started as a hobby, a pastime he'd started out of curiosity. A way to get a bit of experience in the world. Then he had become more interested, had more thoughts, and added to his plans. It had grown into an obsession. He'd lost a job, friends, family, but that didn't matter, because by then, it was his life. It was only this that mattered now, the final step, the end to this all.
Eyes still closed, he breathed in deeply. Perhaps this was his last chance. Perhaps he would just die, alone, nobody knowing. It did not matter to him. He had long since abandoned any idea of an afterlife. After the suffering he had gone through in this journey, oblivion would be welcome. To a man that had nothing left in his life, it would not be so great a change.
He took a step.
Lights, colours, numbers, words, thoughts, feelings; they swirled around him, a symphony of knowledge engulfing him. He did not scream, did not cry out, did not utter a sound. He was not afraid. Fear had ended long ago, almost as soon as he began this journey. There had been no room for fear, and now there was no room for any feeling at all, as the whirlwind of existence swarmed over him. The sound of a baby crying, of children laughing, of young adults whispering, of adults shouting, of the elders wheezing, all in this one moment.
Then there was silence.
He opened his eyes. Blackness. Nothing could be seen, nothing could be felt, but himself. He believed he existed, and so he did, and he saw himself. Not naked, as a symbol of purity and innocence. Not in his protective clothing, what he had been wearing just before he took the step forward. Simply as a human, dressed for a day out. He waited for a moment, unsure. Perhaps this was death, and he had failed?
No, that could not be. He refused existence beyond death. He existed, and so he lived, and he made this clear to the emptiness of the void.
And the void acknowledged his purpose.
You are the Victim.
"I am." said the Victim, nodding. It seemed a good name, in this place. A victim in life, now just a man, helpless.
You are not the first.
The Victim nodded again. This seemed true enough. He'd suspected there were other paths to this place. This was the one that seemed right to him, though, and so it had been. He wondered, briefly, just how many paths there were.
Why are you here?
The Victim had been unsure at the beginning of his journey, before he had committed his life to it. But now the question was simple, and answering it was as easy as breathing.
"Because I want to understand."
I have many names. Many ways to make you understand. It would break you to be told them all.
"I will choose a name. I will choose a method. I will not let my reward slip my grasp."
Then choose.
"You are the Storyteller. You will tell me tales, and you will make me understand, and then I will be happy, and then this will end."
As you wish. Shall I begin?
The Victim smiled. In the darkness of the void of ignorance, his teeth were a brilliant white. "Tell me a tale," he said.
 Nocturnal Emissions · Sat Apr 12, 2008 @ 12:21pm · 2 Comments |
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