![]() VOIDA Story by Meeks![]() Philisophical portrayal of man and its unending quest for knowledge. This is the second publication of the original story under the same title.![]() I squat down on a rock and take off my backpack. I fumble around in the darkness, finding the zipper and giving it a quick jerk to open the bag. My hand goes in, feeling around until it touches a cool plastic tube, which I pull out. I hear the water slosh inside. After a quick mouthful of water which I swish through my teeth and spit out -- I'm not really thirsty -- I replace the bottle inside my bag. I reach deeper, pushing past the pieces of rocks I've collected over the years to my flashlight. I click it on, and am instantly blinded, despite squeezing my eyes shut so hard they might pop. Walking around in the darkness for several hours straight can mess up your vision. The thing is, I enjoy the light. It gives me a sense of warmth, guides me, make me feel at home. Except there's only so many batteries. You don't waste light, ever. I force my eyes open, making my pupils burn like fire in the brightness. I shine it down into my backpack and reach in for something more. The map. Hidden in a secret recess of the bag, a place that was originally meant for softening pads but ripped apart over the years and now makes a perfect little safe spot for my creation. I reach my hand in, squeezing past torn seals and ripped fabric, until I feel the papery smoothness of the map. I pull it out. My teeth clench down on the flashlight while I spread out the map on my knees. Ten seconds already. I shine the light on its colorful display, full of mountains and valleys and rivers and seas I have discovered by myself, for myself. I dig out a pencil and add what little part of the route I have traveled today. I have wandered to the north this time, a bit far away from my main outpost, but the struggle was definitely worth that thin, short little line of explored territory I drew on now. Rocks, as per usual. I placed the pencil back, folded the map and stuffed it into its hole, and shut off the light. Twenty three seconds... if my mississippi-ing wasn't off. I sigh in relief. The light is off, I'm not wasting any of it now. My eyes peer through the darkness, seeing nothing but the void. I make sure everything is zipped up before slinging my backpack over my shoulder again and taking slow and cautious steps through the darkness towards what I remember was my direction. My feet fumble for some time on the rocks, and I count the number of steps to precisely recreate this on the map. I shiver. Despite being almost hot in my wind breaking jacket, not being around light always gives me the creeps. Not that I am scared of darkness, no way, but because I can’t focus my eyes on anything specific. So I close them; they were as good as closed anyway, and instead imagine the world around me. Instead, I imagine the map. Everybody begins to draw one of those at some point in his life. All the things you ever did, all the things you ever experienced, you add those on to the map. It grows and grows. I've already had to add several sheets to mine, and now I was working on the sixth. Except the more you know, the more you find that you haven't ever known yet. It's a basic map making problem, you have to deal with the blank spots on the map. What can we do? Nothing, just explore further and further, fueling a subconscious hope that someday- I stop on some rock, my hiking boots grabbing hold of the cracks and caveats of stone. I felt it, I think. I felt it at 374 and a half steps, it was here. My hands reach out and immediately hit a cold and vertical wall of rock, barely an inch from my nose. I silently thank my senses while patting the stone upwards, upwards, touching the rock until I feel - Nothing. Just a slight wind on the tips of my fingers, and nothing more. I let my breath out. It isn't the barrier I am looking for, not the blockade with barbed wire at the top, presenting some sort of end so I don't wander forever. It's just a large rock, another in this world full with them. At least I didn't crush my nose on it. I hop around the boulder with agility and continue on my way. The squish of my boots, filled with my sweaty feet, are the only thing that punctuates the total silence of this place. I vaguely felt proud that I didn't have another run in with a rock, but, since there wasn't anyone else to share my achievement with, I quickly let the idea drop. Not that it matters anyway. The map seems all important; it is my driving force, my life. I recall the hours I spent carefully sketching on my mountains and my oceans and then making sure I fill every uneventful place with my dragons and monsters to occupy it. Those monsters, they only get drawn on when I finish, when I finally convince myself to never explore further again. Their presence is comforting, they are the guardians of the abyss, forcing and reinforcing my resolution to look away from their land to the known world. The north is the final frontier, I shall stop exploring this way soon too. And then the map shall be drawn, the monsters created, and I will hope to live with what I have left. "It's a lie," I subconsciously tell myself, and then curse for thinking of this. I know perfectly well that monsters won't stop me, and once I finish this I will continue exploring. Because it's not a wall I really want to discover, but an end. Not an end to my world, not an end to the endless void, but simply the end. And who knows, maybe if I go a single step further, I might meet it. It's strange how little of the world my map has documented. And yet I feel at home here, surrounded by darkness shrouding the truth, trying to find something I haven't even defined yet. My feet trip on some particularly jagged rock. I quickly thrust my hands in front of me, and find myself lying on the rocky ground, relatively undamaged. Only then do I notice the weary pain in my legs. I must have walked for hours, and the usual burn that accompanies me is increasing with every step. I squat down on a rock and drop the backpack down somewhere in my exhaustion. My fingers quickly find the water bottle and take a sip or two before spitting it out onto the rock. The cold water splatters my shoes, and I remind myself that I'm not really thirsty. The number repeats itself in my head, 16,304. And a half. 16,304. Screw the half, I don't care that much. The map. I quickly find the flashlight and turn it on. After a moment of squirming, I point the beam into the backpack and slowly, carefully retrieve the map. It is bent, and I try to straighten it out with my palm while spreading it on my knees. A pencil. 17 seconds. 16,304 andahalf. I quickly draw more rocks, particularly exaggerating the one where I almost broke my nose. 23 seconds, I finish and add a final detail I want to remember. My fingers quickly turn the flashlight off. Except they slip. The beam of light falls on the ground, next to the giant map. Its entirety is filled with beautiful mountains and rivers and seas and valleys and fields of rock which I have traveled to, but never really seen. I find myself staring at the paper intensely, taking in the years and years of my work. I pass 32 seconds. I turn the flashlight upside down, so that the light streams onto my face with a warm, yellow glow. I've never noticed before, but it has a sort of a light ring, where the color becomes slightly brighter. My muscles relax, and I let my shoulders and head droop as my body fidgets. What am I doing? The light is bright. I know it sound obvious, but it really is. I, yes truly, I do love that brightness about it. There's something... I can't describe it. It helps the with the map, with my life. My jaws clench, and the pain fills behind my eyes. The map, that thing that has occupied me for so long. Is it even helping? Even if it has, it'll soon stop. In just a few short moments, it'll all go to waste. The problem with my map is that what it tries to do is impossible. Even if I document everything, there is still more. Nobody can finish drawing their map, because a map like that cannot be finished... The light flickers and dies as I sit, taking the brightness from my eyes. My last battery. Yes, a map can only be abandoned.
© 2015 MeeksAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthor![]() MeeksPolandAboutHey guys! I'm a sixteen year old writer trying desperately to make something publish-worthy. In the meantime, I hand out useful critiques and comments. Currently trying to work on something diffe.. more..Writing
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