The Void

He awoke to light surrounding him. The bright ambience seemed to have no origin, it merely left a glow on every surface. He looked around curiously, noticing there was only one surface in site–a smooth whiteness extending into the distance before him with just a touch of warmth to its color and every inch gently gleaming. It was a lovely thing to behold–a flawless palette of possibilities.

Behind him he noticed a black ridge running along the surface where it split off into the misty horizon above him. It was the edge of his world and he knew better than to step beyond it. Turning back to the shapeless void before him he stirred with excitement, smoothing the lines on his trousers and checking the buttons on his collared shirt. Soon there would be some grand action, an impetus of change, a hand that would grab him by the necktie and launch him into something new.

But the more he waited the more he shifted, tapping his fingers and darting his eyes around. The void yawned indifferent to his growing anxiety. With great effort he willed something into existence–something to focus on or to reference.

Nothing.

He squeezed his eyes shut and focused until he felt a vein throbbing in his forehead. He sensed something changed. Blinking around, nothing in his view was different–the surface on which he stood taunted him with emptiness and a paleness that now appeared wretched to him but he felt a weight in his pocket that he hadn't noticed before. He reached his hand in and pulled out a thick bundle of cash. He looked at it suspiciously, mentally prodding it to reveal its secrets. It looked like a significant sum yet he had no memory of acquiring it–it merely appeared right in his pocket which seemed to him to be a rather intimate place to not notice.

Where did it come from? He wondered. Shaking the thought from his head he decided he didn't care for the time being. He had something to focus on in the directionless world he found himself dropped into and that was exciting enough.

He began to walk forward. He hadn't planned on it but his legs ambulated of their own accord and he lurched to keep up, stuffing the cash back into his pocket. As he stepped a thin black pathway appeared beneath his feet. It grew longer with each step but was never further than a few inches from his toes. Dangerously narrow and scattered with rough patches, he slowly jumbled over the pathway's slim cracks and wide crevasses and low trenches and high spots. Once he got used to the rhythm he tried to pick up the pace, excited by the prospect of exploring the void but the path had its own ideas. It chose to meander slow and stilted and there was nothing he could do about it.

As he walked he took in the view and void around began to reveal vague forms. They dissipated under close inspection but nevertheless they were there in the distance and he was content to gaze with gentle curiosity, not wanting to frighten any of them away. Tucking his hands in his pockets, he felt the bundle of cash. Where did it come from? He pondered. Suddenly, a sharp snap resounded through the void and everything went dark.

Hours later the light returned and he didn't have a moment to wonder what had happened–he had to run to keep up with the unfolding pathway. He reveled in going as such speed but he had to keep his wits about him to avoid falling on his face or tumbling over the side. He gasped as he recalled where the cash came from. How could I have done such a thing? He came to a sudden halt and nearly toppled over the edge of the path as it stopped short in front of him.

Something was very wrong. He startled and leapt back as dark striations scratched wildly down the path for some distance behind him. Heart pounding, he waited. The disruption ended and the pathway began to lengthen again, scrawling before him methodically and at a mercifully slower pace than before. As he gingerly walked he tried to recall what he had been thinking about before that bizarre interlude. He was quite sure it was important but the memory itself was blank. In fact, all of his memories were blank. He kicked at the pathway. He thought he was the only thing of substance in this void but now he felt as vague as the world around him. He was abstract and detached. He didn't even have a name. His existence was a pale void with only a slim, capricious pathway to walk on and a bundle of cash in his pocket for company. Why is the money here? He muttered to himself. Come to think of it, why am I here?

Again the world went dark.

It was a while before the light returned but when it did, he felt renewed. Optimistic, even. The light was warmer than usual and his shadowy void was much more welcoming bathed in its light. The empty memories that troubled him started to fill up as he dutifully followed the path. Several names popped into his head. Marvin. Harold. Elliot. Bruce. No, he certainly wasn’t a Bruce but he could be a Harold. Yes, his name was Harold and he had a childhood with all the wholesome delights of an old fashioned family sitcom. He smiled and walked tall along the pathway, pleased with his past as it became clearer and clearer to him. He mused over one memory for so long that it became vivid, an inextricable aspect of his personality—the very motivation of his forward steps. He delighted in the memory, as tragic as it was, that it should give him such a profound sense of purpose. He really did love that dog. He paused on the pathway. Was it a dog? He was certain it was a cat. No, a dog. In his confusion he had a brief but graphic recollection that it was actually a wolf and in that moment the entire void was overlaid with the dark, earthy patina of medieval Europe. No, he determined, it was a dog. A German Shepard, to be decisive. A contemporary, non-medieval German Shepard.

As Harold basked in his new sense of identity, it irked him to notice that something else was missing. His actions were illogical and haphazard and there was still the unanswered question of the mysterious bundle of cash. There were any number of ways he could use it—pay off some of the gambling debts from that week of grief-driven indiscretions, loan his beleaguered best friend the money she needed to get her landscaping business going, or buy that metal detector he has always wanted. He muttered at the pathway, expressing his displeasure that the direction it was taking him was entirely nonsensical. Harold felt himself losing interest in the trajectory of his own life.

The pathway stopped abruptly before him and he paused. He was suspended, unable to move as his surroundings were plunged into shade. Part of the void had folded in on itself and he could sense movement in the distance behind him. Low tremors reverberated down the path and as each ripple crossed over him and sank into the void beyond he learned something new. Before his eyes the world became varied—it flashed with depth and color and movement. To his delight the void slowly populated itself with landscapes, curiosities, and people—some of whom he regarded fondly and at least one who made him shiver with dread. To his left, Harold’s friend Amelia was planting a tree in the distance and offering a weary smile to her children who bounded with energy around her. To his right Xavier, the unscrupulous debt collector, leered around a street corner at Harold and tapped his wristwatch. Harold shook off the panic. He could suddenly recall events and conversations, effects and their causes. He finally understood why he was there—every scene culminated in that very moment in time and things were getting serious. Something momentous was about to crest through the void, he could feel it. He waited impatiently–ready to see where the path would take him next.

When the shade lifted Harold sprinted along the rapidly proceeding pathway. He felt it begin to ascend. Everyone was there in the void beside him. Amelia and the kids staring at an eviction notice, Xavier lurking closer and closer like the grim reaper. Phantom images of Harold as a child playing with his dog flashed in front of him. Harold kept sprinting to keep up with the path. He didn’t know how everything would end. Scenes and conversations blazed through his mind as he ran up the slope. The narrow pathway arced sharply over a heart-pounding climax.

The tension released. Xavier had gotten his comeuppance. Amelia didn't lose the house. Harold’s run along the pathway slowed to a lilting meander, with all the gentle introspective curiosity of one who has spotted home after a lengthy ordeal out in the wild world. He waved to Amelia and the kids, who tried to hide the metal detector that they were wrapping up in colorful paper. He hummed peacefully as he neared what he suspected would be the end of the path. A large gap revealed itself and he leapt gracefully across it, landing on a small platform. He waited but the path didn't budge. It was quite resolute despite his attempts to will it to continue, not wanting to let go of the journey he’d been on. He peered into the distance and spotted a black ridge cutting across the horizon. He leapt into the void toward it. He grasped it with his hands and pulled himself up. It was extremely narrow and he wobbled, looking over the far edge which dropped off like a black cliff. It was leather-smooth to the touch and perfectly flat. Harold smiled, remembering the start of his journey at the other edge of this strange void.

Looking back at the direction he came, he thrilled at the new perspective. He could see the entirety of the pathway he traveled. Miles and miles of it. In spite of its messy marginal scribblings and clipped-in pages and scratched-out phrases, it formed a thing of beauty as it twisted and arced through the void—now resplendent with substance and intrigue. He could see from his viewpoint the little platform that stood away from the rest of the path–the one that he knew he would have to return to. From this angle he could see that the platform was composed of letters. The End they said. He sighed and slid down the ridge toward the words. As he sat musing on the platform, the world began to dim around him and he knew that something lovely was coming to an end. Harold yawned and stretched out on the platform, closing his eyes. A sudden intrusive thought shocked him back awake and the bright light returned.

What about the bundle of cash? He thought wildly.

Far above him in the ether beyond the void, a woman clutched her little black notebook and muttered in exasperation.

“Damn it.”