Darkness. All around Vincent Huron there was nothing but darkness; he could see nothing, hear nothing, and feel nothing. It was a type of emptiness that one could not even fathom. As he tried to look around, his mind couldn’t grasp the nothingness that was around him, and he began to become desperate.

Suddenly there was a small speck of light that appeared in the distance. It was hard to tell if it was small, or just far away. As he began to look at the minuscule trace of light, it began to grow and get brighter until its shape was more defined—almost perfectly spherical.

Words began to flood his mind: nothing, empty, void; and these words continued to play over and over again, almost to ad nauseum. Those words began to jumble up and play in his head over and over, even faster. The only thing that Vincent could even think about at that point was those words. They became more than words, more than sounds; they began to become a part of his very being, as if he was beginning to embody nothing but those words.

Everything about him slowly started to drain away. He began to lose himself amongst the emptiness and nothingness. The words that surrounded him became him. As a matter of fact, he didn’t even know what “him” was anymore.

Who even am I? he thought. Am I these words? Am I this space?

Through the cacophony of nothingness mixed with those words, a single sound cut through to Vincent like a hot knife through butter. He heard a voice reaching out to him, although it was one that he had never heard before. The voice was distant, but not directionless. It became clearer as he turned in the direction of the sphere of light.

“Blackbird...my blackbird,” the voice called out. “Come to me my blackbird; we are one. Seek freedom.”

To be free from the echoing words, in an act of desperation, Vincent turned directly towards the sphere of light to try and communicate with it.

The moment that Vincent looked directly at the sphere, a harsh ringing filled his ears and his head began to throb as if his brain was expanding past the base of his skull. The words began to echo even louder and the ringing continued as if responding to the echoing words. He could do nothing to stop it as it continued to grow. The symphony of tortuous sounds was almost at the point of being unbearable, and he was about to the point of losing his sense of self.

In a cold sweat, Vincent thrust himself up from his bed, now wide awake. His head was still throbbing, but only to the point of a small headache. He looked around his room, trying to gather his bearings after that wicked nightmare. Everything in his room seemed to be the same; the posters of different metal bands and planets, the mirror on the wall, and his bookshelf filled with knick-knacks and random objects all seemed to be as he remembered them. His breathing began to slow back to a normal rate, and he was relieved to feel his own body again.

The ringing in his ears still continued, and for a moment he jumped upon hearing another ringing sound. However, this time the ringing sounded oddly familiar. Instinctually, Vincent reached for his smartphone that was charging on the nightstand next to his bed.

Looking at his phone, he realized that he missed several calls from Eliot Zanes—one of his closest friends. Vincent had been friends with Eliot for most of his life. Eliot had always been a very shy and secretive person; he never liked having any attention and he was usually quiet unless someone was talking to him. It was a bit bizarre that Eliot would try to call him so many times.

Before he even had time to call Eliot back, his phone rang. Eliot was calling again. “Yeah? What’s up, El?” Vincent said groggily, his voice cracking from how dry his throat was.

“O-oh thank goodness you answered. I was afraid something happened to you. Something really big, and quite frankly, unheard of happened today,” Eliot said with an unusual amount of concern and nervousness in his voice.

“What’s got ya so uppity, El? Just calm down for a sec, I got a bit of a headache right now,” Vincent replied, still dealing with a slight case of nausea.

“I-it’s hard to explain, but essentially something just kind of appeared in the middle of town. It’s ginormous and it towers over the rest of the area. It’s impossibly black, it's tall, people have been get—”

“Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll come check it out,” Vincent said, cutting off Eliot’s long tangent that Vincent knew he was probably going to go on. “And what about Zander, have ya given him a call yet? Or is his fancy-ass still catching up on his beauty sleep?”

Eliot laughed, sounding as if some of his nervousness had gone away. “No, I haven’t called him yet, but I was going to after talking to you. And you’re right, he’s probably sleeping soundly with his mask on after a long night of studying again.” Eliot sounded more relaxed.

“Heh, yeah that freakin’ brainiac does nothing but read books and think all day,” Vincent stated half-jokingly. He then let out a big sigh and stretched his arms up in the air. “But anyways, let’s meet up at the usual place, alright? You call Zander and I’ll get ready. I’ll see ya there in like fifteen minutes or so,” Vincent said, his headache starting to fade at that point.

“Alright, sounds good, Vince. I’ll see you then.”

“Yep, see ya around,” Vincent said, with a little more energy to him. He then threw the covers off of his bed and sat on the edge, his head buried in his hands.

After sitting there a few seconds, he pulled himself out of bed, grabbed the clothes that he had set out the night before, and walked over to the mirror on his wall. His body seemed a bit more pale than usual, but the color was starting to return to him. Vincent’s body was slender and lean, but his muscles were well defined. His skin had a tan complexion to it, showing his prominent Native American ancestry. His hair was as black as the night and a little longer and curly at the ends—usually just left wild and free.

Vincent let out a deep sigh after looking at himself in the mirror for a few seconds. He was a little upset about waking up early on a Sunday, but he pushed those thoughts out of his mind, as he figured it was pointless to dwell on how tired he was. After all, Eliot sounded a little more nervous and serious than he usually was.

After letting out another empty sigh, he began to get dressed for the day. He first put on his ripped, black jeans, followed by a black belt that looked like it has been continually used for quite some time. Next, he threw on a generic white t-shirt and then he put on his beat-up, black leather vest over top. Like usual, he decided to leave the vest unbuttoned.

He then jogged his way downstairs to grab his usual morning granola bar to eat. When Vincent reached into his cupboard where he has always kept his food, his hands touched something that was eerily cold. Pulling his hand back instinctually, he stood there, confused and still. He then reached his hand back into the cupboard and pulled out the cold object.

What he found was an impossibly black shard of sorts that seemed to simultaneously absorb light and reflect it, too. There were strange inscriptions written on the shard that wasn't in a language that he knew. He didn’t pay attention to it for very long and put it in his string bag. He then grabbed his granola bar and set off for the city park.

The weather was fairly mild, but just as warm as any typical day in May. The air had a scent of salt to it. The smell of salt came from the ocean, which was near, seeing as this city was on the border of Maryland and the open ocean. The sky was clear, except a few stray clouds, and was unusually devoid of any birds at the moment. The heat never really bothered Vincent, he would much rather be too hot than too cold.

Upon arriving at the city park, Vincent saw two older men—both in their upper fifties—and their pet dog talking to a familiar-looking boy, who was sitting on a bench near one of the park’s many fountains. The boy looked to be the same age as Vincent—eighteen years old— and had dark, caramel-like skin that seemed to glisten in the sunlight. His hair was pitch black and the wool-like curls tumbled down on all sides of his head. His face seemed to be obscured because of the way his hair hung down past his eyes, looking almost like his face was hiding from something. He was wearing basketball shorts and a generic, red graphic t-shirt.

The boy then looked at the approaching Vincent and a spark of recognition was lit across his face. “Vince!” the boy said, waving his arm back and forth.

“What’s goin’ on, El? You seem to have a bit of energy today,” Vincent said with a half-cocked smile.

“W-well you wouldn’t believe what’s happened today, it’s insane. I was up really early in the morning, as usual—you know how my anxiety is—and suddenly I got a massive headache. I always like to look out of my bedroom window towards the park when I get a migraine. I really enjoy the scenery and it calms me down,” Eliot rambled.

“I know, dude, but what does that have to do with what you called me down here for?”

“Ok, ok. So when I looked out at the park I saw something I’ve never seen before...I saw that.” Eliot then pointed to his left, and Vincent’s eyes followed.

Looking in the direction that Eliot pointed, Vincent saw what he could only comprehend as a giant, towering, unmoving obelisk of shadow. The obelisk seemed to tower up almost two-hundred feet in the air, and it had a sort of ominous presence to it. The obelisk couldn't have been more than a few hundred yards away.

“Oh shit, what the hell is that, El? They didn’t construct some dumbass art project overnight, right?” Vincent asked confusingly.

“I have no idea, it just sort of appeared here this morning. There are news crews, journalists, and everyone else in town gathering around it, trying to make sense of it,” Eliot replied. His hands were visibly quivering as he looked up at the giant shadow. “Also, please don’t call art dumb; art is something that can peer into the minds of people and it can be used for people to express themselves and—” Eliot stopped his soon-to-be rant because Vincent was already making his way towards the obelisk. “H-hey Vince, wait a second!”

Vincent was already walking towards the obelisk, but turned around as soon as he heard Eliot yell at him. However, rather than being concerned with what Eliot was saying, he looked as if he forgot something. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Did ya call Zander yet?”

“What? O-oh yeah, of course. He’s actually already at that obelisk thing. He said something about the obelisk being something that will ‘finally challenge my intellect’ or something like that,” Eliot said, impersonating Zander.

“HAH! Yep, that sounds just about right. Alright, let’s go check in on him,” Vincent said, already making strides towards the obelisk.

“W-wait up Vince, I’m coming too!” Eliot yelled, desperately.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

Both Vincent and Eliot arrived at the center plaza at the park. All of the sidewalks came in from various directions, some coming from the woods and some coming from the various ponds that are scattered throughout the park, and converged at the garden in the center of the park. In the center of the garden, where a statue to a famous general was, there was now a giant, dark, and mysterious obelisk.

As Vincent looked at the obelisk, something about it seemed to pull at the back of his head. The longer he stared, the stranger, yet more familiar it became. His vision began to tunnel towards it and his ears began to ring, louder and louder. Just before it reached a fever pitch, he somehow snapped out of it, shaking his head.

Gathered around the obelisk were dozens of different kinds of people: news crews, journalists, teenagers posting about the obelisk on social media, and the usual park-strollers that just happened to see it on their daily walk. One person in particular that stuck out to Vincent and Eliot was an extremely pale, teenage boy, around their age. They were feverishly taking pictures of the obelisk and scratching things down in a notebook—all while not paying any other person around them any mind.

He had bright, blonde hair that flowed to one side, sticking up and out at the ends. The hair gave off the illusion of depth, but the more he moved around, the more his hair just fell flat. His glasses seemed to shimmer and reflect unnaturally in the sunlight and he was constantly pushing them up each time he looked down at his notebook. He wore a blue polo shirt and cargo shorts, and he had a very noticeable air of confidence and ego around him.

“Look at him go, that’s the Zander I know—focusing on something until he figures it out, while blocking literally everything else out,” Vincent said matter-of-factly.

“Oh yeah, he’s so headstrong and just brash,” Eliot replied with a hint of fascination in his voice. “He really does just block everything out, even that lady he just accidentally pushed down.”

“Hahaha what an idiot! How did he not see her there?” Vincent laughed. “For someone so smart, he has a hell of time seein’ everything that isn’t him,” he stated, rolling his eyes.

He then proceeded to casually stroll up to where Zander was. When he made his way up to him, he reeled back his open hand and whacked Zander in the back of the head. “Give your head a break, man.”

Zander turned around, looking as though he was just forcibly jolted out of a trance. Rubbing the whacked part of his head, Zander looked at Vincent with a look that shouted how unimpressed and annoyed he was.

“Oh wow, if it isn’t the great Vincent Huron, slapper of heads, and the wondrous Eliot Zanes. What are you two smooth-brained marsupials up to?” Zander jabbed.

“Well I came over here to solve this mystery,” Vincent replied, pointing at the obelisk. “Seems like you’re having some trouble with it, Alexander Nenmos, the supposed genius of Maryland,” Vincent said provocatively.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” Zander’s focus then shifted back to the obelisk. “Well it is certainly unusual, to say the least, but do not worry, for there is nothing that I can’t figure out.”

“Except for Mr. Jeremiah’s astronomy class,” Vincent replied with a slight grin on his face.

Zander’s calm and collected expression broke for just an instance, as if he was being reminded of something painful and traumatic. “Oh, that sorry excuse for a class? I’m sorry that I don’t care about what a bunch of rocks and dust are doing in an empty void, nevertheless what their names are,” Zander stated, with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Oh really? You seem to care a lot about math and numbers, which were invented by living beings on this floating rock in space,” Vincent retorted.

Zander and Vincent’s conversation began to grow a bit heated, as it almost always does when they argue about their interests. It usually starts with one of them mentioning something about space or math, and from there, the arguments can get so ridiculous that they start debating about irrelevant subjects just so that one of them can be right about something. Those arguments only end in two ways: when one of them finally gives up, or when Eliot intervenes.

Upon seeing the familiar spectacle, Eliot stepped between the two arguing friends. “A-Alright, alright, guys, you’re both right. Space is literally the world, numbers explain the world, and I have a headache already,” Eliot said, almost as if he was reiterating something that he’s said many times before. “Now that that is out of the way, can we please get back to the topic at hand?”

“Yeah, sure,” Vincent sighed.

Zander hesitated for a moment. “Fine...I’ll call it a draw,” he said dejectedly.

“Sooooooooooo, what did you find, Zander?” Eliot questioned excitedly.

Zander puffed out his chest a bit, as if to show off his pride and ego. “Well, I am glad you asked. From what I have discovered, the material that the obelisk is made out of is nothing that I am aware of. I am not exaggerating here, but it looks like something that fell from space, seeing as this material is not of this planet...most likely. In addition, the way it handles light is paradoxical in nature; it simultaneously absorbs it and reflects it in swirling patterns that look like—”

“Like galaxies,” Vincent interrupted. “And it doesn’t just look like something that came from space, it looks like it’s made of space itself.”

“That is preposterous, laughable, and honestly, extremely stupid,” Zander retorted. “But anyways, there are also strange symbols or runes carved on it. A lot of people that are investigating it are talking about how these symbols are of an alien language.”

“So are they? Are there actually aliens?” Eliot asked nervously.

Both Vincent and Zander answered at the same time. Vincent stated that there were, while Zander was adamant that it was impossible. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Zander decided to continue his line of thinking.

“As I was saying,” Zander said with a bit of annoyance in his voice. “These symbols are not from another language, but rather they are a coded message. The way the sentences are structured is the exact same as English, almost suspiciously so. The symbols are either representative of phrases, like Japanese kanji or something like that, or representative of letters. That’s about where I am with this puzzle.”

“So what do we do now? Just wait for you to finish solving this?” Vincent asked.

Just as he asked that question, a huge crowd of people began to rush into the park. It was as if a dam of people broke and the entire park was suddenly flooded with more people than the park had ever seen. While Vincent and Zander visually seemed unfazed by this influx of people, Eliot was visibly uncomfortable with the situation.

“I have a better idea, actually,” Zander began to say. “I already have pictures of all the symbols, of every square inch of the obelisk, and I also have the entire obelisk sketched down in my sketchbook. So why don’t we move this investigation to my house? The pool is open, so you two can just relax while my monstrous IQ goes to work,” Zander stated while having a weird combination of ego and sincerity in his voice.

“Sounds good to me, besides,” Vincent said looking at Eliot, “some of us might be a bit overwhelmed right now.”

The group of friends began making their way towards Zander’s house, all while laughing and throwing slight insults at one another. While they were walking, they happened to pass one of their classmates—Jeremy Wesson. It was widely known by most people in the school that Jeremy was the target of a lot of the bullying that went on, and no one really stood up for him. The thing that most people made fun of him for was the fact that he tended to smell rather unpleasant most days.

Eliot and Jeremy used to be rather close friends when they were younger, seeing as they lived in the same rundown neighborhood. But over the years, they naturally drifted apart. Even with that being the case, Eliot always tried to wave and say hi to Jeremy when he could.

As Jeremy passed them by, Vincent suddenly felt a sharp pain rise from the back of his head and it made its way all around the inside of his skull. “Yo, Jeremy, how’s it going?” Vincent said, with his hand on his head.

Zander completely ignored Jeremy, even going as far as turning completely away from him. Eliot peered from around Vincent and silently waved at Jeremy with a smile on his face. Jeremy continued moving forward with his head down, seemingly completely ignoring all of them.

“Huh, that’s weird, he usually at least waves back. He seems more upset than usual,” Eliot said, sadly.

“Yeah, you’re right. I wonder if those dumbass bullies got to him more. One of these days I’m gonna teach the school bullies a lesson,” Vincent replied, irritated.

“Well, you first have to come to school in order to ‘teach them a lesson’.”

“Uh...alright fair enough, you got me there.”

At that point, Zander turned back towards the group, looking a little more visibly disturbed, as if he was sick or had nausea. “Well...he probably was just upset that his parents spent their money more on alcoholic beverages, rather than on his school fees or even on their own water bills,” Zander said, referring to Jeremy.

“Zander, you know that that’s rude to say,” Eliot replied.

“And you know it’s true,” Zander quickly retorted. “His parents aren’t the best decision-makers out there. As a matter of fact, you would know better than anyone how his parents are,” Zander stated plainly. “It’s a shame that he has to go through what he does, but, in terms of effort he puts into his school work, I still don’t th—”

Vincent suddenly put his hands in the air, signaling Eliot and Zander to get quiet. He did this because he suddenly got an uneasy feeling that made its way around his entire body. In addition, he got another headache, but one that was worse than any of the other ones that he had that day. This headache was throbbing on the left side of his head, almost as if it was pointing him in that direction.

As the group of friends stood on the sidewalk silently, Vincent began to hear what sounded like muffled talking from the alley to his left. He crept around the corner of the alley and peered into it. What he saw both horrified and confused him. He saw a naked man standing there, whose muscles were so overgrown and distorted, that it looked like he was about to explode from the sheer force of the bulging muscle fibers.

Each fiber of the man’s body pulsed and flexed unnaturally. Vincent was so enamored with the sight of the man that he almost didn’t see the bruised and bloody man that was slumped against the alley wall. The unnaturally muscled man was towering over the beaten body and taking long, deep breaths; it looked like a wild animal looking at its slaughtered prey.

“...please...I can’t take…” the bloodied man croaked before seemingly falling unconscious.

The muscled man began to laugh maniacally, although the sounds coming from his throat were only vaguely human. It sounded like a human voice that was being heard underwater, like something was wrong with his vocal cords. He then punched the wall behind him, completely cracking all of the brick within fifteen feet of his fist. The shock of the blow caused even the ground to shake a little.

Suddenly, Eliot let out a small gasp of fright upon seeing the monstrous figure in the alleyway. The moment the gasp was let out, the muscled man snapped his head around, looking directly at Vincent and his friends. He then began to lumber forward, his muscles flexing and convulsing at sporadic intervals, his veins swelling to impossible sizes, and his face distorting and twisting even more so than how it was before.

“Strength,” the muscled man gurgled. “Power...strength…” the muscled man disorientingly spouted. “Strength, power, might...strength, power, might...strength, power, might,” the giant continued to say.

The towering behemoth of pure muscle slowly made his way forward towards the group. He put his hand on one of the alley walls as if he was trying to catch his balance. His meaty hand dug into and scraped against the wall like a rake across sand. His hands seemed to effortlessly tear through the brick.

While Eliot and Zander began to back up, acting like they were about to run, Vincent stood completely still. His mind began to empty and slip into a familiar state. His head throbbed even more than before, and three words began to echo in his mind: empty, nothing, void. He desperately tried to fight against these words, but his mind continually echoed them faster and faster the closer the behemoth came. Eventually, a single thought came to his mind, a thought about protecting his friends. As soon as that thought entered his mind, he gave into the orchestra of words in his mind...he began to become nothing.

Snapping back to reality, Vincent let a slight smile grow across his face. He stepped towards the hulking behemoth with unwavering confidence in himself, and with little to no care in the world about his situation.

As the muscled man approached Vincent and wound his arm back in a punching manner, Vincent did the same, almost to the point of mocking the man’s form. He threw a punch towards the muscled man and suddenly a black sphere appeared at the end of his hand and slightly inside the body of the muscled man. The towering behemoth suddenly flew back at an incredible speed, like he was suddenly repelled by a strong force, and crashed against the back wall of the alley. The crashing of the body against the cement and trash bins caused a stir and a few stray cats jumped out of hiding.

Vincent Huron stood proud as the dust began to settle in the alley. The body of the once-muscled man laid unconscious at the back of the alley and their muscles slowly shrank and returned to normal. Turning around, Vincent saw the shocked and amazed expressions on Zander and Eliot’s faces.

“What sort of trickery was that?” Zander questioned.

“Yeah, Vince, what in the world just happened?” Eliot added.

“Well...I think I got some good old fashion superpowers,” Vincent replied nonchalantly. “And I’m gonna call that little move I just did starbreaker.”