It was a hard time comprehending the space around me because it simply didn’t exist. I was standing amidst nothing, understanding what that meant was already hard, but the contradiction created by my presence only furthered the problem.

It was a struggle, a headache, as if the things in my head tried to permeate some space that wasn’t there just because I couldn’t grasp that nothingness.

But I wasn’t alone. No, this nothing wasn’t mine, I knew there was another presence, and they knew I knew. It wasn’t me who shaped this place, if it could even be considered that, but I was the one who was turning it into something. And they wanted to reclaim that.

A voice suddenly echoed from an impossible distance through all that wasn’t there, reaching me with surprising clarity; a single word with promise of more to come: “Look...”

And the lack of anything suddenly turned into certain darkness, but opening my eyes, that now existed, revealed a vast expanse, completely black, a simplification of what nothing previously was. Still not much to see, my alert eyes now on edge searching for a target to be able to fulfill that request.

A sleek figure emerged lazily from the cloud of what isn’t, featureless, dispossessed of anything meaningful that would allow ideas to stick to it, it stood as a mannequin yet I knew it to be human. I did as asked, looking, eyes travelling, orbiting and imagining through its extension, planting their seeds in that barren land.

“me straight in the face…” The voice again, it spoke with a certain rhythm, as if trying to remember a folk song of yore, the path wasn’t clear but it was going to take it to the end. Though deep down it felt eerily familiar for me too, it felt wrong to not partake in this game if I wanted to know where it led.

My nomad eyes then settled with those words, the voice and the mannequin, one and the other. I couldn’t be sure if it was a creation of mine, a way to fill that void, or if it was creating itself through me. Still I gazed at a blank slate as features started to float around like vegetables in a soup.
It should be a face, it should be human, yet it was too smooth, too platonic, too uncanny. Yet I had to stare straight at it, would that be in the middle? The nose? The eyes? Which one? Without an answer my eyes tried to keep it all on focus, darting the short distances, trying to alternate its routes each time, left eye, tip of the nose, mouth, left cheek, nose bridge, right eye, mouth, forehead, right cheek, right eye, chin…

“can’t you see…” I shut my eyes before realizing those words weren’t complete, it wasn’t an order, it was a question? Was it rhetorical? Once again the words were vague enough to create uncertainty from nothing, now both mind and eyes drifted aimlessly searching for a conclusion that only that voice could deliver “there’s nothing…”

I blink. It 's gone. The features melting away right back into that impenetrable surface, but something remains, not on that face, no. I blink once more and I see it again, in the afterimage that mouth persists, now smiling, mocking me for not knowing the lyrics, for not knowing how the game goes and still choosing to participate, it knows it holds an edge against me. Though underneath the contempt it seemed to hold some appreciation for my boldness.

And yet that mouth isn’t really there, at least “to hide.” It wasn’t. Another blink led to the afterimage and this reality merging, although in practice it didn’t feel like a change at all. What worried me though was that conclusion, it was right, I didn’t have anything to hide, I didn’t even feel like I had to hide anything from it, but the way it put it made me think that maybe I was actually hiding something, but what?

Trying to steady myself I stared at those teeth shining with malice, waiting to announce the next jest, which it could barely hold back, cheeks bulging out as it struggled briefly before relenting. A tongue darted out from that devilish maw, longer and thicker than I could expect, and it stared at me. It was an eye. I was now the one held under a heavy gaze, probing through all I am and all that I could be underneath in quick and fluid sweeps with no regards for me at all.

It retreated, though clearly not satisfied. But it didn’t return all the way, stopping, floating just inches away from its lips, the inquisitive iris never letting go of me. It then started to bloat, soon hiding the mouth and killing the hopes that it would go back, the once sleek tongue-eye now becoming its own feature amid that empty face in this vast nothingness. 

A demand, or an urge, I couldn’t make the distinction if this feeling was my own or one manufactured by that eye, the face, the voice. What I knew was the dryness in my mouth and the discomfort in my throat as I swallowed, my own tongue heavy and uncontrolled, as something bloomed within and, alongside it, the desperate need to speak clashing with the fear of what could come out, of what would be of my words.

“Swallow me.” I let out, a cold chill of regret rippling through me before being dismissed by the boiling heat of shame, despite the fear my desires shone through. And the eye goaded. I yielded. I wasn’t done “Fuck me, ’cause I’m yours.”

“Fool me.” And the words started to flow, the burning of shame and lust fueling that tongue, there was nothing to hide, there were no ears to listen, no mouths to mock me, there was only I, and the nothingness. I didn’t know how much I was hiding, how much I was enjoying being toyed with, having this shifting plane provoke and mess with me “Tell me I’m enough.”

It was visceral. Just as that lone disturbing eye that now slithered back into the mouth as it sewn itself shut, gone once again. But my confession and my uneven breathing weren’t met with abandonment, instead the figure extended its hand, dull fingers caressing my chin and cheek, a reward for playing my part. I could’ve melted there…

“Do you want to know…” Of course I couldn’t, it wasn’t over and the doubts once again lingered, now I knew to let them lead the way, I had to bide my time until the next words came, even if I was already sure of my answer “about the equinoxes?”

Colors, hues, ideas, they all sparked and floated around, autumn and spring coalescing in that empty space, merging, splitting, lending space to one another, coexisting, one and the same. Dancing as partners, parts of a bigger cycle, not opposites, lovers.

I couldn’t help but watch the lightshow, in wonder at the contrast, the images, the ideas, the promises. It was an invitation, that voice, that figure, it wanted to dance with me, to flow together as the seasons, I wasn’t alone in my desires, in my yearning. There was no shame anymore; my face still burned against those lifeless fingers.

“Do you want to hear… the liquid… violins?” Slowly there were sounds, bit by bit that barren landscape was being filled, something was being built upon what wasn’t mine but I was eager to reclaim it. The sounds of nature, of the equinoxes, soon giving emphasis to water, a small drizzle, a waterfall, torrential downpour, thunder, this orchestra constructing itself with what surrounded me. Any sound, and especially these sounds, were majestic in comparison to the eerie silence of earlier.

Despite how pleasant it all felt, a sense of hollowness started to come through. This was a conclusion, we were at game’s end, soon it would be gone, and what would be of us? Could we live knowing what this had been, what it could become? I looked at the figure, at that featureless face where once the eyes, the regular ones, were. Waiting for the voice, for an answer.

“But if you want me to,” I was eager, I wanted a lot of things, all I could do was hope they would be the ones it would say, “I’ll be a secret of yours.”

Things seemed to slow down, the lights dimmed, the sounds became quieter, that hand which held my face left, my heart pounded in fear once again, it felt like I was on the verge of losing it all, but the voice remained so calm, so certain that this was the way to go.

“I’ll make no noise, I’ll draw no attention…” It was all gone, sounds, light, the figure. Only me and the voice remained, only we to keep the secret. “from anyone.” And it was gone too, along with the words it said and the things that it did, a secret that I couldn’t recall, one I couldn’t spoil.

Soon enough my presence will vanish too, and the nothingness will take over again, at least I won’t have to think of it then. What I can and do wonder about for now is when will I wake up again.