"THE STATE OR SITUATION OF BEING ALONE."

Children swam through the hallways, their chattering echoing powerfully. A moment that greatly reminded Basil of the past.

“Do you have company with me Ma’am?”. The Head Minister questioned. As he politely gestured them towards the main office of the facility.

Now in the office, the knight in armor conversing unknown details with the Head Minister as best she could. The refractive vibrancy of the brightly illuminated dim courtyard was not only melancholic, but also alluring. The reverberating sounds of nearby contraptions and the indistinct chattering of multiple, separate individualities communicating form as primary source flowing into the ears of the clueless boy.

The young man had always shared a form of self-gratification when around the likes of an open or closed window. He had only been sitting at the desk for about several minutes now, but this safe haven genuinely did not bring malevolence or discomfort in any shape or form. Unlike other generic social convictions. The feeling of indifference he felt from other adults and especially from his peers; was no more. The horizon was a true guardian angel in a sense. As he leisurely looked down at the open notebook on his desk, he had finally come to notice that a strand of hair was breezing past his eyes out the window. His gaze followed as it exited the classroom. His lustrous black hair could be easily mistaken for a pool of oblivion. It flowed in the wind without a care as he sat. But his eyes, they were lifeless. His dark brown nearly pitch-black irises were always lifeless since birth, but he didn’t let this get between his extensive imagination.

“Does he have a name? Anything?” the Head Minister requested.

The lively scratches of pencil meeting paper. They had given the boy a notebook and pencil to waste time.

“Ok, so we got his name down, but that’s it.” he said as he stared tiredly at the lady knight.

(Sigh) - “You’re not really helping me here y’know. I’m going to need more than a name. Are you even his guardian?” as the Head Minister beckoned, the knight would only respond with even more silence. Glancing over at the boy apathetically.

“Identical.” he thought as he silently compared the two.

The repetitive scratching generated by the erasing of pencil led over and over again. Art. The art of storytelling to be exact. Basil’s favorite pastime. What used to be an expression of boredom, was now an expression of pure ecstasy. Basil’s entire body began to envelop a burning sensation, increasingly trembling with sheer excitement. Literature was his escape. An escape that always assisted through many hardships. He had never felt exhilaration such as this. Nothing could compare to literature.

The tip of his fingers bounced up and down in eagerness. Skimming through his own writings, he had seemingly fallen in love with his own talent. Reading every last word, analyzing the structure to the tiniest detail.

Regaining his composure, he began to release all facial tension. As he returned back to regularity, he swiftly flipped to the next page, the young man’s expression switched to one of shock and remembrance. He stared openly as he saw an old melody he had written. Remembering all the nostalgic peaceful times before reading to himself quietly.

(“The empathic sky dances under the eye of the one true faith~ The developed splash of its tears, music to the ears of our absolute.”)

He unconsciously remembered a poem his mother would always sing to him as he slept. Though none of that mattered to him now. This forgotten melody had hypnotized him fully. Whispering the hushed melody as he stared outwards toward the ticking clock and lucent ceiling lights. The melody which was so quiet even a canine would have a difficult time even noticing it. In addition to the window which still gleamed on his figure. The quality luster in his hair shining brightly in the glistening sun.

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The irresistible horizon, gusts of wind deluging the surrounding space, and the silk window blinds uncontrollably flowing in the breeze. All these occurrences simultaneously forced the boy’s eyes to begin to feel weighted by a thousand tons. The boy released a sweet yawn from his agape mouth before laying down his head atop his crossed forearms.

“Basil!” bellowed the Head Minister.

Though, still he dozed off carelessly, the teacher’s futile beckons unable to grab his attention. His mind was finally at ease. The boy was hit with a sudden wave of soporific melancholy, beginning to exhale softly before inaudibly dozing off into the dull darkness.

Complete nihility.

A world’s externality is perceived but not characterized by no one other than the individual who resides in it. So why was the world and all its livelihood incorporeal to even himself he wondered. The suppressed perception that one’s surrounding is not existent. However, we must lay and accept with undeniable certainty. But those who withstand the coercion, those who cognize the facet of reality are able to comprehend the fact that our comprehension can only go so far. Actuality does not equal materiality. Our perceptible reality is none but fictitious, realism lies beneath the pith of your eternalness. Beneath the soul. Thousands swarm you, yet you continue to move. The postulation of the many discrepancies that force abstractions into fact. Empiricism leads all.

But never mind that, you are supposed to be your own cicerone. People lead themselves with unwavering attentiveness, though you somehow are incapable of freeing yourself from this incapacitated state of feeling incognizant of your surroundings. You are current, as all is distorted; you are whole. He is everything and the only thing authentic. But he did not feel that way. He felt distant as he slept. He felt insignificant under the sun rather than significantly noticing. He didn’t feel imperative to society or the world in the slightest. He felt out of the ordinary.

Wavering in and out of reality, before slowly being transported completely into the darkness. Snuggly comfort, a content feeling of complete rapture as he unconsciously traversed the vast void.

All while drowning. Drowning in utter tranquility.

Solitude. A frame of mind which sways the hegemony of one’s own beliefs. It’s suggested that such lachrymose eloquence indefinitely inundates one’s perceptual abstraction of totality between corresponding individualities.

Quietude, the bewitching emanations girdling the empty atmosphere. Imperceptible gaseous substances gently breeze past a detached and forlorn boy. Levitating. Floating in the endless abyss.

“Where am I?” Basil murmured to himself.

Beguiling aura deluged the vertices of the surrounding space. A vacuous realm, comprehensively devoid of any apparent life, but nonetheless, remained confined by the boundaries of space and time. Imperceptible waves of incomprehensible abyss encompass the intrinsic domain; this place is more than peculiar. It is seemingly too much unlike our ordinary world. There is nothing, though you feel something. In a world conceived in its own dimensions, all of which are accommodated by their varying concepts , we are fairly simple creatures.

No matter how complex we make ourselves out to be. Yet, this space, no matter how void it may seem, is much more complex than we are. Even though it may be vacant of these metaphysical, and fundamental concepts, it is much more than we can ever grasp. A dimensional locality palpably adjacent to our own space. Nothing, nothing like our dimension.

(“Boy!”) yelped an unknown speaker.

Alas, Basil’s eyes leisurely peek open, revealing to him in an unclear haze that he was far from home. However, that was the least of Basil’s concerns. As he desperately attempted to observe his surroundings, he had come to the realization that his body felt differently. His limbs had apparently grown and he felt mystical. Although he was being externally consumed by the darkness surrounding him, he could still nonetheless feel an unnatural aura from within.

“Where am I?” Basil impassively questioned all while floating in this endless realm of abyss.

(“The same as before.”)

(“Drowning, engulfed by the darkness.”) the entity spoke.

The entity was shockingly tone dead. Unable to grasp the situation and speaking in a somewhat tranquil, hushed tone that somewhat annoyed Basil after each sentence.

“Drowning? I’m not drowning?” Basil responded in a confused tone.

Silence filled once again before the entity spoke once more.

(“Drowning in the abyss. The land beyond separation.”)

(“A place much larger than imagination.”)

Its tone was nothing but direct and sincere all throughout her description. Basil was simply left puzzled. His eyes lazily squinted as he soaked in all the surrounding forces.

“Oh.” Basil repeated back nonchalantly as he lifelessly floated in the abyss

All that could be heard was a slight chuckle behind what was able to be perceived, as Basil suddenly looked to his right to witness the living darkness manifest its own distorted smile.

What was this place?!

- End.