Over The Gentleman’s shoulder, The Father could see in the room behind him, a great winged beast sharpening its talons against the round of a human skull. Beside it, two men fought to the death. Beside them, Death stood in front of a burning lamp, trying to capture his own shadow. And beside him, a lonely poet hanged himself, over and over again.
In this story, he had woken as an atom which, to a father flower, would be invisible, impossible to see and hard to prove as being real, but to empty space, to the void and to nothing, it, or he, for that matter, was in fact, grandiose and prodigious.
For compared to nothing, anything is everything.
He wasn’t alone either; there were billions more like him who thrust into this universe at its beginning, bursting through a doorway at the same moment.
And he told his son about the flight into nothingness and in such a meaningless amount of time, how nothing became everything and then everything got bigger and bigger and bigger and farther and farther away from its beginning.
And then everything stopped.
And he was alone.
And he was really sad because he didn’t want to be alone. He wanted someone to play with. He wanted someone to sit with. He wanted someone to talk to and he wanted someone to tell him stories, someone that he could listen to.
And he thought and he thought about having someone to talk to, about having someone to be with. And the more he thought, the more the feeling inside him got warm and cozy.
Then one day, he heard lots of talking, stories he hadn’t heard before. There was lots of talking and it was all being talked to him. And he opened his eyes and there was a bright orange light and it was coming from behind him and around him and inside him and it shone out really, farther he could even tell and he could see, now that his eyes were open and shining, he wasn’t alone anymore.
And the talking he heard, that was from planets. Eighteen of them. And they all revolved around him and they all had so much to say and they all wanted his attention so much and the more he looked, the more stories they had to tell.
And he didn’t feel alone anymore. Because he had become a sun. And his mother was a galaxy. And his children were his eighteen planets and his brothers and sisters, they lived far away but he could see them when he wanted to, when he squinted his bright shining eyes. He lived inside his mother’s womb, in her galaxy with his children and his brothers and his sisters and all of their children too and the small orbiting inanimate dolls that tall of their children kept and played with whenever the light of their father's eyes turned away. They called them moons.
THE HUNTER ₢2014 CSeanMcGee **coming soon to the free art collection - free epub, mobi, deluxe pdf **
They entered a room with very little color, not like the rest of the clinic. Here, the walls seemed bigger than the ones outside. They looked dull and overcast. But unlike the larger bird being picked on by the bonnet of The Father’s car, here it was obvious that the smaller more colorful birds would be pinioned, should they ever raise their hands in protest. For here, the grey overcast walls cast a shadow so long that one was left astute and without imaginings.