Darkness.
Vast
Infinite
Nothing.
Groping blindly through the Eternal Void.
Gradually, a faint glow pierces the neverending darkness, a mere pinprick of light.
So incredibly weak, and yet still he finds himself raggedly pulled towards the tear of light in the canvas of dark. Doing so eventually reveals a subtle hint of red tones within the luster. His very being creeps nearer until he begins to see a faint horizon in the aperture before him. Every moment bringing him ever closer, his body relaxed and tensed simultaneously in an amalgam of fear, tension, and serenity. With every inch forward, his soul screams a thousand steps back. After what feels like an eon of hovering through the nonbeing around him, he stops and sighs heavily, a man on the verge of giving up on all existential levels.
He blinks.
Standing in the middle of an empty field, the horizon nothing more than an eternal, decaying wasteland. It then dawns on him that he is now standing on the very horizon he'd seen only moments ago via the rip in the darkness. Moments ago? Or lifetimes ago. He knew not which. In all directions, not a single tree or building, not another living thing, and the sky above an ever-reaching blanket of angry pale gray steadily fading into absolute darkness in the distance. No birds chirping, insects buzzing, not even a whisper from the wind running through his hair. Hair? Is that what it is? He reaches up and slowly runs his hand through the thin, weak strands hanging shaggily in his vision. Coming away from his scalp, he sees his hand full of long, stringy, oily chunks and realizes that it's falling out in patches. He strains to open his fingers and offers the dead strands to the silent breeze whirling around him. His hand raised, still palm up, he stares. The fingers on this familiar stranger's hand were all gnarled, swollen, and in agony. Turning the festering hand over, palm-down, he stares. The blue-green veins were made all the more apparent by the sickly paleness of the skin, practically the same hue as the oppressive gray looming overhead.
YOU ARE READING
The Book of Midnight - A Percival Blackwood Casefile
Mystery / ThrillerIt's the late 1940's and Amerika has won the war. However, in one bustling metropolis, a private investigator is hired to find a book, little realizing that if he doesn't, it could lead to a much deadlier war. One of cosmic proportions. Percival B...
