The foot was rotting, there was yellow gunk inside the circling crusts of brown. The skin around the holes was purple. Hair grew here and there, but it was sparse, and sporadic. The toes were big, the fingers on the foot clunky, spread in different directions, as if trying to escape. The toenails were immaculate though, they shone, and smelled good, if one could get past the rest of the smell.

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She looked at him. He looked at her. The balloon rose ever higher, the flame gasping as it filled up the red and blue and white balloon with hot air. The air started to become stronger, and whip around them the higher they went. The guide was manning the fire, they were staring into each other’s eyes. The wind was roaring. The ground below was becoming smaller until it was just splashes of color blending into one another. Green fields, into yellow crops, into gray lines of road, dots of colors speeding down the highways, blue rivers. The sky around them was lit up with red and orange, fire and fury as the sun filled it with shades for one last dance. Birds were chirping, soaring lazily as they made their way to their nests. The wind was warm.

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Splitting into tiny pieces, naked to the invisible eye, the most powerful microscopes straining to catch a glimpse. Coming back together, stitching the atoms into singular holes. In a room in the universe, vast, expansive, stretching as far as the eye could see, and yet, it did not exist at all. No one could find it. Humans, with all their machines, all their technology, even at its peak before the Eternity Event, before they returned to the Naturals, they travelled through the spot, and saw nothing. The creature knew all this, it was not concerned, it had no cause for worry. Its role was simple. It was to sit in this room in the far edges of the universe, and create and destroy atoms. Splitting each one into tiny atom sized pieces. And stitching them all back together. The smell of the winds from heaven flew through this place. When the humans came past in their clunky metal ships, some were driven mad,

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Very little light was streaming into the alley. Two dumpsters stood, on different sides, almost touching. A huge man walked towards the end of the alley. Only as he slipped between the dumpsters did one realize all his bulk was in his clothes. His face, if you zoomed in was dirty, and filled with despair, his eyes gleaming coldly and intelligently. The shadows rearranged themselves, and one stepped into the light, thin, hunched over, eyes searching as they tried to make out the man. A moment of silence, both staring at each other, a brief scuffle, a muffled shot. The second man dropped dead. A gun clanked as it bounced off the ground.

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Bright lights flashing, clicks going off everywhere. People standing by corners, murmuring, some pointing. People jostling outside, phones in hands, lenses pointing inside, trying to see if they could catch a glimpse of the gory details to put up on their social media feeds. So they could accomplish internet fame for a few minutes. Before they went back to their dreary lives. He had brushed past them, some taking eyes off their phone screens for a few seconds, to give him a look of scorn, others pointing their cameras at him. Who was he? The internet would answer. The yellow tape held them back, but for how long. Next thing you would see, phones would have x rays inside them, and these people would be able to see inside the house. Would they be able to handle it, he wondered.

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The boy sat tied to a chair, wrists red and raw around the areas the rope was tied. A chill swirled around him, hungry, malicious. It rushed at him, raced through him, could do nothing but make him shiver. The gleaming, usually spotless silver walls were speckled with drops of blood. The shades were drawn, no light streamed in, only the bright, harsh lights above shone on the shadows in the room. The screech of a knife being whet upon stone. The premonition of what was to come. His eyes would not close, fixated on his father’s throat, red, bright, a fountain gushing out liquid, still.

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Her heart was thumping in her chest, her ears were ringing, her hair was flying everywhere, whipping her neck when it flew back. She saw everything but did not register it. Not the emotions on people, the man, the woman, fighting, the former resigned, the latter angry. Not the tears flowing from the eyes of the girl on her phone, not the joy twinkling in the eyes of the boy skipping as he chewed on gum. She saw all, but nothing registered, the darkness inside of her was loud, insistent, and demanded all her attention. The air tasted metallic, its touch was warm, like a concerned friend that knew you needed help but did not know how to provide it.

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It was still alien, this feeling. He moved his arms around, turning them from side to side, looked at his hands, flawless, seamless. He smelled so human, the sweat, the emotions, he could hear his heart thumping in his chest, he could hear the mice scurrying about the apartment, the birds chirping outside. Beams of light illuminating dust as they made lines on the floor. The air tasted metallic, rough and sharp, and of dust, also rough. This feeling was so strange. He could never have expected that he would see this in his lifetime. He moved one leg, and then the other, marvelling at the beauty of life, and of creation.

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The rain fell down hard on the pavement, splashed onto the puddles, soaked the mud, and spruced up the green. The trees revelled in their favorite weather, it had been particularly hot and arid these last few weeks. The constant patter of rain falling on the cold, wet gravel, splashing through layers of fern and shrubs, and the weak growls of a thunder that would not come were the only sounds. Vision was minimal, the rain was too fast and heavy. Wetness pervaded the air. She rain through the rain, shook her head, it was heavy with water, her hair spraying rain everywhere.

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The world was a scary place. By the day, the planet was acting out, fires all out of order, flooding everywhere. When he went out into the streets, they reeked of fear and death, they stank of blood and piss. He could see defecation lying by the streets. He could see men running, as if the devil himself were chasing them. Maybe he was, maybe the devil had been let loose to do his bidding on the planet. Maybe it was the end of days, he clutched his cross closer to his chest. He was so thankful to God that the good Lord had allowed him to make money, had given him the wisdom and foresight to save large chunks of it, and that he didnt live in a neighborhood too flashy, or too in the dumps. He was in that rare medium where though the residents feared for their lives every day, the Breakers had not yet torn down the gates. They had better prey. The slums burned in the distance, smoke spiralling upwards, a beacon, a warning, slums in every city were on fire. The poor were rising, they called it.

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It was dark, but nothing is dark to he who has never seen the light. The creature was born in this darkness, yet, it was born with eyes. It could not see itself, but it knew it existed. It was solid. It had traced the rimmed, rough surface of its skin many times, four fingers on each limb, fingers tracing up the bumps on its stomach, which was at its lower end, to the head which was attached onto it. It did not have a neck or legs like those humans did. It did feel something beating inside of it, a heart maybe? It lived in darkness, and yet it could feel them. The humans, crawling about. It did not know its purpose. It had spent millenia figuring that out. One day, it had popped into existence. The universe had been much younger then. Around it, life began to form itself. It saw the rocks collide and mix, and gases burn and flare, and spin around, splashes of oil giving light and life to a mostly blank, dark canvas. It did not see the light. It felt it. Light felt like pins pricking your skin, infusing it with warmth, beams from the sun, joy. It smelt not like the burning gaseous ball of fire from whence it came, but like life. Light sounded like the purest symphony, each note unique, filled with laughter. It was a powerful force. It had no companion, but for the darkness that embraced it, greedy for light’s touch.

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Stars lit up the night sky, specks of white splashed around on a black canvas. The smoke from the fire spiralled upwards, the heat remained thick, lazy on the ground. The smell of marshmallows diffused everywhere. Three boys and two girls lounged on the logs spread around them. It had been a good idea, taking this break before they headed off to college. Alan and Penny cuddled as they took turns staring into the heart of the flames, and at each other. They were both going to Stanford, Alan on a scholarship, Penny on a full ride. Jerome strung some chords on his guitar, oblivious to the eyes and sighs of Jenna, who was in love with him. Jack’s eyes were closed, he was humming

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His next customer was tall, well muscled but not too big, eyes that twinkled with intelligence. He was a good husband, he provided, took care of his wife and kids, there was never anything lacking in their lives, he loved them. He also had a problem. He cheated on his wife with many other women, several of whom he had kids with. Each of them knew. The files had told him all of this. He never spoke a word of it to the man. He didnt need to. When the time came, however, he would use all that information. The butcher was, what the organization called a mablug, he didnt know what language it was, but he suspected it was some Middle Eastern one, because of how they spoke with the mucus in their throats, when the pronounced the word.

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Light streamed in through the canopy of trees that marked the forest ceiling. Everything was calm inside. Leaves were flickering about, changing color from dark green to light bright green as they played in and out of the golden beams. The chasm of silence yawned, and closed its eyes. Leaves rustled. Panting, heart racing, a spotted fawn burst out of the underbush. Bounding, leaping blinding. It did not have a destination in mind. It was just avoiding one. Fast, short breaths that would soon turn into longer, gasping ones.

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The boy huffed and puffed as he ran up the stairs. His lungs were straining to keep propelling him up, legs burning but he needed to get up to stop what was happening. The stairway was painted a dull white, muffled light was streaming in through the dusty windows. The staircase smelled sterile and of being forgotten. When the elevators had been installed, almost all people had forgotten that this was here. He gasped for air. He was halfway through. The stairs felt bouncy under his foot, as if they were helping him reach the top faster. Barely had his foot touched a stair than the other one touched the next, and the first bounced to the third. When he had started, fifteen minutes ago, he was taking two steps at a time. Bounding up the staircase. Now, sweat was dripping off his brows, flying behind him. His hair was matted with it.

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The butcher handed the parcel, fresh from the rinsing, water droplets moving around on the plastic to his customer and smiled his trademark smile. Big, wide, eyes filled with joy, his stubble too, seemed to smile. His eyes were light blue, and happy. The customer, a regular held the bag, tightly gripped around it, and walked out the door, the bells over which rang as she left.

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Dissolving, slowly fading into obscurity, sinking into the ground. Nostrils tingling, no sensations coming through, fingers tingling, skin crawling. Earth sucking you in, deeper and deeper, becoming smaller and smaller. Covering your tingling mouth, your tongue being pricked by a thousand invisible pins, slowly rising to your nose, inhaling all the mud, covering your eyes.

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It smelt of spices, namely turmeric and cumin, and garlic, and onion, and salt, and pepper, and of the warmth and homeliness of clarified butter. Most importantly, it smelled of home. It came in a large steel pot, too big to be cooked on a stove in a home, this was a commercial pot. It was made of steel, pockmarked by designs, it was still shiny, glimmering the light off of it. Two men were dragging it in, the one holding it on the right was wearing a goatee that did not look good, the one on the left had sincere eyes, sparkling with happiness, maybe he was heady from the smell of what he was carrying. He was clean shaven, maybe just shy of being twenty. Behind them, a man carrying a stomach, cupped in his palms, waddled in. He had a long beard, neatly kept. With one hand, he stroked it. His stomach wobbled. On his head was a white garment, with designs and holes in it, indicating he was one of the religious.

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The day the earth broke was a strange one. Strange in that it was so normal. Bright and sunny, cheery. Women carrying water back from the well, gossiping. The earthen pots, which were covered with colorful designs, were gurgling, the liquid inside them swishing and swaying as they balanced it on their heads. Their hands covered with henna. There had been a wedding in the town last night, a large affair. It was the chief’s daughter, being married to a chief’s daughter from another village. Last night, the village had hosted the groom. Men tilling the fields, happy, focused. They had purpose, they had pride. They were not idle. No one in this village was idle. The chief had ensured that they would have a school. Children studied, so one day, they too could become big men, the chief said, even bigger than him. They studied earnestly. When they were not studying, they were helping their parents with the fields or with cooking inside the house. It was a happy village. Contained in it’s own little bubble.

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They were all pawns in a game. He had always believed that. Then he had believed they all played in the game of the creator or whatever thing had created the universe. As he grew older and leaned more towards the lack of existence of such a thing: life was a quagmire of ordered chaos, he had kept that belief but never tried to justify it. Now he knew.

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