[Enter the Void is a piece I've just now written. I've been thinking about writing this ever since I got my strongest inspiration for it, which was lastnight. I was on a forum, reading people's poems and such, when I came across one that I chose to read, despite first thinking it was going to be very idiotic, like many other writings on that site. I was wrong, however, and loved it so much. Coincidentally, things that happen in what I just wrote, happen very similarly to what happens in the short story I'm supposed to be working on. But I can't go into detail with that right now. Anyway, the person's poem I was inspired by, was also inspired by something he/she saw, so it's like a chain reaction each time. It should be noted that I didn't copy this person's work in the least bit. They're just similar. Enjoy, and think about what I'm saying, if you will. Feedback is more than welcome. Thank you. ] The party has just ended a short while ago. While there, I sat in the corner and watched everyone flirt, drink, and get high. It's dark outside, and even darker tonight, because the moon's light is masked by clouds that are frowning upon my seemingly lifeless body. I'm walking home to my little house, and I realize the windows have been boarded up, as I near the building. I rush quickly to the door, and search over and over for the key. It appears to be lost, and I grow frustrated. Then out of one last chance that I may enter it, I try to see if the door just happens to be unlocked. It is. I enter, and to my surprise, it's not my house. It is, but it isn't. Nothing was stolen. It was just changed. Everything in the house is completely colorless, and it's just one huge white blob. The chairs are white. The floor is white. The ceiling...the ceiling is full of lightbulbs. I don't understand what happened. I glance as well as I can at the dozens and dozens of lightbulbs. And then I notice just one in the very far left, at the very corner, is left frozen, and it is not graced by the empowering light. I sit down, not caring about anything at all. My mind is too numb to care about anything. Suddenly, I realize I'm intoxicated. How exactly is left unknown to me. I drank nothing; I did no drugs. I know! Someone spiked my drink. No, that can't be. I didn't even drink a cup of water, for that matter. I'm getting dizzy. And dizzier. And dizzier. My heart is beating rapidly. Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump. And not a bit slower. I feel like I'm dying. The beat of my heart blocks out all sound. The vibrations of my heart beat try to block out sight. Everything I see is becoming black and pixelated. I can no longer control my hands. They control me. About that time, I spot, through the growing blackness of my eyesight, some type of sharp metal instrument. My hand reaches out for it. It acts as a blind person and feels all around the object. I recognize it as being a scalpel, as my fingers continue caressing it, rubbing it gently and smoothly against the blade, just easily enough not to get cut. Then I feel it coming towards me. It stops... ...Right on my chest. I open my mouth in horror, because I know what operation is about to take place, since my hands have attained their freedom. Suddenly, I experience a pop on my chest. It's the pop of broken flesh. I can feel the scalpel slowly making it's way down. Slowly. It's gliding. I can feel the motions of the object. I can feel the ripping of my chest. It feels like it must have zipped through my skin for miles and miles. I look down, and try to concentrate on the spot where it cut me. Though it's still very hard to see, I locate the cut. It's about an inch long up and down my chest. I also see the gushing of blood. Blood is everywhere on the floor. On my hands. Soon the room will be more full of blood, than I am. Ouch. My eyes. It's so hard to see. I don't understand why I can't see. My heart. The vibrating. The sound of drums within my very own head. Then suddenly I realize something very important. I didn't actually feel that cut. I just thought I did. I'm actually quite numb. I physically feel absolutely nothing. Then my hand is moving again. It's poking at the cut. Then suddenly my pinky opens it a little bit. I know what I think is going to happen isn't really about to happen. It happens. My pelvis thrusts into the air, despite feeling no pain. It's an instinct. My pinky is under my skin. All of it. My pinky picks up the skin on my chest, and circles the area around the cut, almost as a radar. It wants to wiggle it's way to my heart. I know it. But luckily my heart is caged behind my ribs. My pinky is under my skin. Now, along with my ring finger. Now my middle finger. Now my index finger. My hand is beneath the skin of my chest. It's feeling of my sternum. My ribs. Lower. Lower. Lower. It's at the bottom of my ribs. The cut has now stretched down almost to my navel. The cut is a foot long, at least. Suddenly, my hand gains feeling. It's all I can feel, though. Luckily. It's almost as though it was meant to have feeling, because now I can feel something odd within my own body. A huge, cold lump. It's not a lump. It's much bigger. It's a ball of some type. I pull at it. I'm tugging it left to right. Finally, it moves some. I'm going to pull this thing out of my body. It slides out to the lower area of my ribs. I'm using two hands now. Still under my skin, I'm yanking the object. It slides out of my chest. This thing isn't a ball. It's a head. With a body attached. But no eyes, no nails, no mouth, ears, or nostrils. It's a white body, from what I can tell. That's all. It begins to get warm, however, as I hold it. It has a heart beat. Blood is circulating. I take the genderless being, and set it in my lap and hold it in my arms. I begin crying, because nothing makes sense. And I still don't care. But I cry anyway. It's an instinct. My heart is beating so hard. I want the pounding to stop. I want good sight again. My eyes are beginning to clear up as I think this. Less black, more white. Everything's clearer. I look at the little child. I can now plainly see the body with no distinct traits. Except for one thing. Dozens and dozens of cuts. I see a band-aid sitting there that I didn't acknowledge before. So, I pick a random cut, and place the band-aid gently on it, right where my cut is. On the chest. I see where another band-aid had already existed on the body on the arm, and I peel it off to see if there was a cut beneath it, oddly enough there isn't. I look really closely to the body, and before my eyes, I see finger nails forming. Just like that. Fingernails. They're brittle and so thin. I see two tiny holes shaping under a lump in the middle of it's face. Nostrils. Everything is shaping. I have a feeling this thing is going to look just like me when it develops. I sigh in relief, for some reason. I close my eyes, and lean back. I hear the...boy...sigh, too. And he lies his head against my bloodied chest. I smile, and a tear of happiness rolls down my face, just as I reopen my eyes. I never look at him again, because I know just what he looks like. I know he's smiling too. As my head is facing the ceiling, I notice that next to that useless lightbulb in the far left, another lightbulb begins to flicker out, as it joins the cold, lightless emptiness of the other one. My heartbeat is going at normal speed now. Everything will be okay, I know it. My eyes are still brightening, but beyond the improvement, to even more whiteness. As everything in sight goes blank, in white this time, I think one last thought: I remember doing this once before. Things keep getting whiter and whiter. And my heartbeat is getting slower and slower. Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump...thump.......thump.....thump......... -(c)The Alpha and the Omega