It's the underwear that bothers him. Sleeping under the stars over the hard ground is okay. Solitude is okay--it's good. No people means none of... them. But the dirt under his fingernails and his own smell that he knows is there under the rot of the forest and the pesticides of the fields bothers him.
Life was always so clean, so careful. He threw himself into karate because it was the only time he wasn't treated like he was made of glass. That's what his mother thought of him: little possessed child, needs to be coddled. It didn't matter. It was the pills that held off the... thing. The coddling did nothing. Nothing but make her feel better.
He'd stopped at a Mc Donald's with only one car in the lot. The manager hadn't notice him coming in to wash his underwear--and his socks, and his face and hands.
That was two days ago.
Almost there. Almost there.
There are more fields in between the trees now. Soon there will be houses, then streetlights, then shops. Then the doctor's office.
A bear stands in the way.
It sits back on its heels, watching him, mouth open.
The gun is in his hand, but he knows it's empty.
Back away, slow... talk low... don't look it in the eye... hands in the air to look big.
Whooooeeeee... whooooeeeee
His hands drop.
Whooooeeeee... whooooeeeee
The sound of a bear trying to talk.
"No. No..."
Whoooeeeee....
"Animals too, then?"
"Yes."
It isn't the bear that speaks. It isn't the thing in the bear that speaks. It is the thing in his own head.
"No!"
He grabs reflexively for the empty bottle in his pocket.
"No..."
"You haven't been listening, Sean."
The bottle cracks in his fist.
"Stop--"
"Let me out. Let me out."
"I want to!"
"I need you to let me out."
"Go... go... go!"
"I can't leave until you die."
"Get out! Get out!"
"I can't."
"Stop!"
"I'm trying. I've been trying."
"Ahhh... stop... oh god..."
"You stopped listening to me."
"I didn't--I didn't mean to..."
"It's okay--"
"No!"
"It's okay. My friends can help."
Ngruuhhh Ngruuhh. The bear groans.
"No--"
It charges.
"Aaahhh!"
Blood runs down his face. Fear mirrors in the eyes of the bear, stupid eyes without understanding. His own fear ebbs almost as if it were being absorbed by the bear. It gives way to pity at the look in those stupid eyes.
The bear will starve. Or fall off a cliff. Or get mauled by one of it's own.
Then another parasite will be free.
Another gash opens in his abdomen. The fearful eyes, and the grizzled fur, and the hanging tongue, and most of the pain disappear.
"Thanks for the ride."
Then the voice is gone.
SIX
Space
~
Author's Note:
This collection of stories concludes with... nothing. This story originated from a very bad day with a Writer's Digest prompt: "While cleaning a room in your house you find a door you didn't know was there." On a better day, the answer no doubt would have been something mysterious and fascinating. But on this particular day, the only answer that appeared to What do you find in a secret room? was Nothing.
~
The mess that Ann left behind wasn't the neat metaphorical kind that you don't have to sweep and box up. It was the physical, piles-of-junk, grime-in-the-corners type. We could have had hoards of treasure piled in the attic, and I would never know.
Instead of treasure in the dustiest corner of the attic, I found a door. And while I did not know the secrets of every pile of junk in the house, I knew one thing for certain: there was one door in the attic, and it was the one at the top of the stairs. This one was on the opposite wall.
One more room to clean, I thought.
I opened the door, and there stood an old man, snowy and scored as a birch, and as tall and straight as one too. He stood with arms crossed solemnly, like the gatekeeper of the invisible room behind him.
"Can I help you?" I said.
"No."
"Can you just stand aside then so I can clean?" I waved my broom as proof of this intent. "Thought I was finished, but it looks like there's one room left."
"No."
"Why's that?"
"There is nothing there"
"Well then, it should be quick." I peered around the gatekeeper's shoulder, but it was dark.
"You will see nothing."
"Look, can I just go in the room?"
"No."
"What if I just do this," and I took a mocking step to one side, and another, edging around him. "What will you do then?"
"Nothing."
"See you later, then."
And I danced about the gatekeeper, until I was at his back.
I stood there for a moment, looking around, and realized, I was the only thing in the room.
The only anything in the room.
Then what is pulling at my skin?
Something was tugging at it all over.
Then... vacuum, my mind supplied. Plain air, without wind, without cold, without heat, just air cannot be felt. But its absence is unmistakable.
Every muscle strained to move, every alveolus reached for air, every blood cell cowered from the snatching void, I felt it all because there was nothing else to feel.
My jaw opened wide, trying to unhinge like a snake's, throat pumping to suck in air. There was nothing to inhale. The muscles in my chest wrenched to expand, but nothing filled the cavity.
My body was falling out–and up and down and around–with no air to keep me in.
My eyeballs expanded, the lids widening. Was it was shock or the void tugging on them? They would not shut.
Muscles, work, damn you!
They refused. I could not stop myself from seeing.
It was not blackness.
It was not dark.
It was empty.
Nothing.
I felt my own mind. It had one thought.
...dying?
Then,
No... no time...no time for death.
An arm reached around my neck from behind.
For an old man, he was strong. Or maybe there was no resistance in the void.
The exposed threads of the carpet scraped my hands; the floorboards beneath bruised them. Then, the threads were pressed against my face, scratching my cheek. Finally, I closed my eyes.
Darkness. Blessed darkness.
"You should not see nothing."
I opened my eyes. The dim glow of the attic blazed in an unbearable light beside the void, which still lurked on the periphery. I kept it in the periphery. As I turned my head, I did not let it enter into focus.
"Why is it there?"
"Do you think we live in a universe of things where spaces exist between? No. Worlds are built in spaces--they came first. Nothing came first. It is the pervading force. These are mere islands we stand on. They float in oceans of void."
"And you keep it back?"
"You can't keep nothing back. I keep you back."
"But–"
"Build walls. Build houses. Build things between you and the spaces all around. Don't see them; it's built into you not to."
"Then how did I..."
"It permeates."
The door clicked shut.
The floor was warm after the void, and I lay on it, trying not to have seen the void.
There is a wardrobe in that corner now. It collects dust. Spiders nest behind it. Mice use it as a toilet. I do not clean there anymore. I do not see.
&
nbsp; But I know, and knowing is enough.
I swam in the ocean, and brought water out with me.
The spaces pervade.
About the Author
Hey
I'm Aelius.
I write.
Come find me at ww.CheapAssFiction.com
or on Twitter @CheapAssFiction
~A
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