No Thing

There is nothing like “nothing” to start and finish your day.   I’ve wandered aimlessly looking for something, but no luck.  Last thing I remember was working on a new art project.  It was quite beautiful and mysterious.   I guess I have no idea how powerful my art can be because suddenly I was surrounded by “nothing.”  I was building a vessel, a door really – it was just fantasy, an effect.  I was creating a door into another dimension.   I had engraved the piece with arcane symbols, but they were just imaginary doodles.   Much to my surprise something happened which resulted in my being surrounded by “nothing.”   Technically it is something – a gray foggy something with no other distinguishing characteristics.  So I’m in fog land.  I’ve called out, but no one answers and there is not even an echo.  Just nothing.   The more I contemplate the symbols I wrote on the vessel, the more something makes sense.   I had been reading a book, “The Tome of Remembrance.”   It was awful – about a Wizard who mistakenly wandered onto a battlefield.   All he saw was violence.   Even people in the towns and cities who were not part of the war were violent towards one another, driven by self interest and greed.  The Wizard was astounded by the torment he witnessed.   He set out to invoke a charm.   He said the words that were written in the tome I was reading and the world disappeared to be replaced by dreams.   I had written those exact words on my work of art.   I believed the book was an imaginary tale.  Now, the world no longer exists.  It has been replaced with “nothing.”   In fact, the world never really existed.  It was a dream.

 

The Ritual

Father Anastin took the child into his inner sanctum for some special attention. The child needed human affection and the Father felt obligated to oblige. The Father touched the frail child gently. At first, the child was repelled by Father’s attention, then settled down and allowed what would come next. The religious personage was precise in his ministrations, disrobing both himself and the child. It was difficult at first to become aroused, but Father felt a calling. The child withered like an uprooted flower, but inevitably became excited by Father’s touch. This was not the first time they performed this unconventional ritual and it would not be the last – not if the child was to survive. Father Anastin knew the human-alien hybrid needed this attention in order to accommodate to the special needs of it’s body. Too many hybrids were lost because they lacked intercourse with humans. The Father knew he was no longer in compliance with the church’s doctrine. Too many priests in the early years were accused of pederasty, but this was different – a matter of life and death. The human-alien hybrid experiment needed a successful survivor in order to end the war. Only by sharing the most intimate of human behaviors could the hybrid survive.