The void. Not space, but a lack thereof. A gap between spaces where the very concepts of 'here' and 'there' unravel at the seams. In this non-place, where ti and causality held no dominion, sothing began. A point of insistence. Not light, for light requires a dium through which to travel, and here was none. It was a wound in the fabric of unbeing, a singularity of assertion against the crushing tyranny of nothing. It pulsed, not with any asurable rhythm, but with the agonising slowness of geological epochs compressed into a single, shuddering beat.
From this point, an unfolding comnced. The assertion bled outward, not in rays, but ethereal, formless tendrils that coiled and uncoiled like tornted serpents. They were colours that had no nas, hues that mocked the very spectrum by which mortal eyes perceive the world. The tendrils themselves seed to weep, trailing spectral effluvia that sizzled against the non-existent void.
The sphere in the centre, for it had now resolved itself into that impossible geotry, did not simply grow. It tamorphosed. Its surface beca a seething mbrane of fractured perspectives, showing oceans of thought churning with concepts that would shatter the unprepared mind. It was a thing of a million facets, and yet it was also flawlessly smooth, a paradox that made the surrounding void tremble with the strain of comprehension.
Then, the sphere elongated, an exasperated sigh taking on shape. A suggestion of a torso sprouted from the core, thin and elongated as if drawn by the careful, deliberate strokes of an artist. From this trunk, limbs extruded themselves with the languid motion of a growing tree's branches.
A head ford last, rising from the upper stalk. It was featureless at first, a smooth ovoid of the sa weeping, impossible colour. Then, subtle indentations appeared—two hollows, a delicate curve where a nose should be, and a thin, silent fissure for a mouth.
It was a sculpture carved from absence and animated by paradox. Its skin was a mosaic of dying suns and nascent galaxies. The shape it wore was rely a courtesy, a flimsy garnt draped over a form so fundantally—
User Comments
0 comments from readers