Darkness.
Silence.
Nothing.
Stiles opened his eyes slowly. All around him was nothingness. There was only a dark and never ending void. He sat up and looked around.
Alone.
He was scared but he couldn’t articulate his feelings. There was this overwhelming loneliness that had settled in his body. Was this death? This wasn’t anything like what the white robed holy men preached of during service. There were no large gates; no angels to usher him in. But then again, maybe Stiles didn’t get to go to Heaven. Perhaps he was now doomed to this desolate pane of existence. Did he even exist anymore?
If this was his current existence, then he would do well to embrace it. So he put one foot before the other and started walking.
Minutes.
Hours.
Days.
Stiles had no idea how long he had walked. Had he gone anywhere? Was he walking in circles? Was there anywhere even to go? Even so, fatigue didn’t plague him and he only felt the pressure as each of his footfalls landed against the ground. His footsteps made no sound. So he walked on.
He screamed.
He yelled.
He cried.
But no one ever answered back.
So he kept walking.
There was no notion of time.
No end to this place.
Stiles stopped and tipped his head back. Even above him there was nothing. The sky had no definition from the ground. Was there even a horizon? More tears fell from his eyes and the warmth of the tears on his skin confused him. Why could he feel his tears and yet he never got tired? Did he have this place for the rest of time? Just how long was eternity?
He let his head fall back down. Just as he was about to take yet another step forward, he saw something before him. It was faint—but there was definitely something in the nothingness. He swallowed hard, his throat dry with anticipation. His steps were quick and he nearly broke in to a run.
As he got closer, Stiles was able to see that yes—there was something there. But it wasn’t a something, it was a someone. They had their back to him. It was a woman. She had long, curly brown hair that cascaded down her back. She wore a light, white sundress. When Stiles was within arm’s length of her, she turned.
Stiles’ heart stopped and he felt his throat constrict.
It took a few times for his voice to work, “Mom?”
She smiled at him, her warm brown eyes sparkling, “My ptaszek, look at how you’ve grown.”
Stiles fell to his knees, all the strength in his body disappearing instantly. He tried to think of something to say, but the only thing that came to him was tears. It was his mother before him. She was exactly as he remembered her. Her face was bright and laughter lines crinkled at the edges of her eyes. A few moles peppered her skin just as they did Stiles’. He looked so much like his mother that sometimes it was painful to look in a mirror and see her looking back at him.
“Is it really you?” He choked out.
“Of course, ptaszek,” She knelt down in front of him. Her lips turned up in to a smile, “You are such a handsome young man,” she whispered as she gently took his face in her hands.
He laughed but it sounded more like a sob.
“What are you doing here?”
“I should be asking you that same question young man,” her smile turned in to a frown and her brow creased, “This is no place for you and honestly I’m a little disappointed to find you here. I was enjoying my day and suddenly I’m told my son has fallen to the In-Between. What were you thinking?”
