The Void

Darkness. That's really the only word he could describe it as. The man looked around, trying to find anything that could inform him of where he was. But the only thing he could see was just more darkness. There was no sound, no imagery, no smell, and no touch. He looked down and could not even discern his own body. As far as he could discern, he had no body to speak of, not that he could speak anyway. Yet, despite having no legs, he wasn’t falling or lying on any flat surface, and while he had no body, he still sensed something that served as an outline and form for his being. A spirit? A soul? He did not know. While he did not know much and did not understand where he was, he was not scared or afraid, just confused and somewhat uncomfortable. He still had some memory of previous events in his existence, but like a letter burned by flame, or a stone tablet eroded by time, much of it was lost to him, and all he could really currently remember was how he fell from a high place and then was here. The last thing he saw was the place from where he fell, and a face of someone he could not fully remember, but still felt comforted by the thought of them.

Suddenly, the man felt himself being pulled toward something, as though he was being lifted by an unknown power. He turned (or was turned) toward the first thing that wasn’t pitch darkness. His vision was temporarily impaired by the blinding light. He looked forward to seeing an everlasting wall like a rift in the darkness, shining with a whitish black color he did not know existed. As he was carried by the invisible and nameless force, he realized what this place was, though the definition he had always used for it now seemed inaccurate, being too horrific and tragic a term for a place that now felt neutral and even calming. But even as he accepted what was coming, he was confused. For while this gateway was a spectacle in its own right, it did not match images in his memory of golden gates and angels, nor flaming fire and demons. Part of him felt betrayed, for his beliefs’ founders had somehow gotten it wrong and portrayed a false reality.

However, he quickly realized he was not alone. He looked around and saw hundreds, maybe thousands, of astral projections on both sides of him, heading towards the rift. He stared at the ones closest to him, noticing how they were different based on their sizes and appearance, with some being an inspiring shining blue while others were a bloody, haunting red. And yet all were heading towards the same place. Like himself, many seemed to recognize what lay before them. While he could not make out an expression, their movement betrayed emotion. He saw some, to his surprise, seemingly turn and try to resist, pushing with futility against an invisible force that kept them on the path. Some, however, had more success, managing to speed up their pace toward the veil, passing through others and quickly reaching the wall before disappearing, forever. Others still simply let fate push them, showing no resistance or complete subservience to this realm.

The man himself seemed to choose the latter of these options. Yet, as he neared the end of the void, he stopped. The force had seemingly given up, as if it were a machine that had run out of fuel. He tried to move forward himself, but to no avail. He tried to move backward. No result. For the first time in this immaterium, he felt genuine fear, for even though this new change sparked curiosity, its unusualness was bone-chilling. He looked around again; the other souls just kept moving forward. Some gave what appeared to be a turn in his direction, but without visage, he saw neither confusion, care, sympathy, sorrow, or anything. They just kept moving, and as time went on, the source of souls never stopped. 

As what he thought could be identified as time passed, he became accustomed to staying in one place. While it felt like an eternity, he quickly learned (and had originally assumed) that food and water were not necessities, most likely because they did not exist here. He passed his time by staring at the masses of passersby and remembering his life. While this may have evoked sorrow in some men, to him it was something akin to joy, as since he did not follow what he considered standard procedure here, and occasionally was forced further and further away from the veil, he began to entertain the idea he might escape.

   As time passed, he would now and then notice souls that, while having no unique characteristics, felt similar and even special to him. Some of them even noticed him and attempted to move in his direction with serious ferocity, of course, to no avail. He also noticed, somewhat disturbingly, that the first souls were taller than those who followed, appearing shorter and more feeble. 

Then, a time came when the man began to feel strange, the void began to fade, and the darkness began to change. Part of him realized what was happening, and he rejoiced with thoughts of reunion and tales of his static adventure. He was ready to return.

John woke up in a hospital bed, with medical equipment and scanners strewn around him. He had no memory of what had happened, just a vague remembrance of falling and blacking out, with no more or less. He was surrounded by doctors and nurses, asking him if he was alright and getting him food. While comforted, he did wish to see his family and wondered where they were. He asked a nurse, whom he had been told had cared for him the longest, but she only looked away in tears. John was confused and simply decided to wait. Though he couldn’t remember, he was good at waiting, especially for things that would never come.