Warnings: None

The Ghost in You

Chapter 01:

"Until"

Time is a concept relative, and a concept observable only in the presence of action.

Events mark time. Births and deaths, laughter and tears, beginnings and ends—these actionable transitions mark the flow of time and make the spaces between each happening as obvious as missing teeth.

For a being who sees nothing, and does even less, time simply does not matter.

It was one such being.

Time had ceased for It (It had forgotten all notion of gender even before It forgot the concept of time) long ago, though to It, "long" meant little indeed. In Its timeless state, It did not possess the wherewithal to act, or notice action, or react to action when the rare occasion called. Instead It simply… sat. It sat where It had always sat, and where It suspected (in that vague, distant part of Itself still capable of thought) It would always sit, inert, until time ended and even beings aware of time ceased to think about time at all. Until void swallowed It, snuffed out that last thinking flicker of Its consciousness like a wind snuffs a dying candle.

How long had It been there?

It had no way of knowing, and It lacked the ability to desire to find out.

If days turned to nights, It did not notice, for the sun on Its face held no warmth.

If families moved into and out of the place where It lived (wherever that was), It did not notice. The families did not notice It, either, and to It, the sounds of their voices were as wind in the trees.

And if trees grew, or were felled within Its hearing, neither did It notice these events, for the wind against Its form felt like so much shadow passing over numb, unfeeling skin.

Not that it remembered what wind on skin could feel like anymore, let alone what having skin felt like.

It did not know how to feel.

Colors were grey.

Sound was dull.

It could not eat.

It could not sleep.

It felt nothing.

It was nothing.

This was Its reality, It half-thought.

This was torture, though It lacked the vocabulary to name Its despair as such.

Thus, deeper into the nothing of despair It sank.

Soon It forgot how to think at all.

… until.

NOTES

Happy Halloween.

This fic will update weekly on Saturdays for the duration of November 2018. Short chapters like this one (if there are any) will be posted between long chapters on Wednesdays. When November ends, the schedule will change; details forthcoming.

Thanks for reading; I'll see you with another (longer) chapter this Saturday, November 3.