Young Writers Society

This is where he'll hide it, my secret nothing. My priceless air. I sigh, staring up at the tops of the tall oaks. Willow the wisps and fairies fill my fractured imagination here in this secret place. Oh, this is a must. The leaves are green and firmly cling to their trees, and the sky is a peculiar grey. A single Elm has its beautiful splay all while the roots jut out of the ground. The lightning scar, the bear claw mar, what a beautiful sight. The stream beside the tree as red as mystery. And the clouds above are black.

This is indeed a good place to end my heavy quest. I'll hide my secret nothing, and then get some rest. I've stumbled over mountains and breathlessly crawled up hills, I've stepped over valleys and walked through plains, I've forded streams and tiptoed through rivers to get to this place. I've never moved so quickly with so little haste. This must be the spot, but where is the boy? It's he who I need. He has to hide the nothing! I'm much too old, much too dry. I can capture, yet never cast. I need to find him, and fast. Time will tell, they say, and time has told.

Take one look at this face, you'll see I'm old. A boy must hide the nothing, and no boy I see. Unless, of course, The Spirit's blind and thinks that the boy is me. I sit and wait, and wait and sit, but no one comes my way. My imagination, waning as I breathe, captures an image in the stream. A boy is what I see. I lean over and touch his shoulder-- He is as real as a dream! We lock eyes, and to my surprise, the boy is me. A young chap just over thirteen. He has curly eyes and pointy teeth. Pale and twisted lips, eyelashes that are braided together, hair like licorice whips. He is brawny, lanky, and as thin as a post. He looks like a mural or perhaps an abstract ghost. I have to squint to see the picture of old, of what I used to be. But in his left pupil, there I am, it's me! Tan skin, pointy chin, purple eyes, and auburn hair.

"It's true," speaks The Spirit from its majestically cobbled form, "this is the boy, and the boy is you." And with that it emerges from the water in startling grace. My eyes behold the scene, as its mouth opens wide and its kind face nears to me. "Step inside and hide the nothing. You can't do it, because you're something. But the boy is here, and he is nothing."

I suddenly understand what I must do. I extend my hand, taking The Spirit by the tongue, and as it swallows me up colors flash like peacock plumes. Gold like my first summer. Green like the Sisle Sea. I see the colors flashing in his jaws and they amaze me - a rainbow of feathers fluttering together in a blood red sea! I follow them down a flight of neon stairs. When I get to the bottom of the neon steps, I can't even breathe; all I know is in this glow there is more color than can possibly be perceived. For I know The Spirit and it knows me, and by this chance this floral dance is last that I may see.

Out of the water emerges the boy, brand new and young and clean. He is I and I am he, The spirit re-purposed we. He must hide the nothing, the precious breath of air, all where I can see. His mind twists with imagination, writhing with life's beat. It slithers here there and yonder. A quest it must complete. "Where shall I hide the nothing?" We mumble to the stream. The Spirit says nothing, but the stream looks upwards resolute. "The stream points to the sky. The trees do too!" We've found our place hide the nothing. To hide it fair and true.

The boy sits ever so suddenly and looks up to the sky. Oh, here comes the nothing! The treasured breath of air. Once striped from all the land, leaving it bare. As the boy looks up a shiver runs down my spine. Oh no... Oh no... The nothing... He throws his head back and grins. He opens his mouth and seems to choke. He utters not but rainbow smoke. And it is his end. He hid the nothing, it was his dying deed. Over he fell with a triumphant yell.

Oh there goes the nothing spiraling through the sky! It goes over the land from grass to sand. Whats dead is live and live is dead. As the nothing drives ahead. The world once deranged is now a changed and peaceful place to be. All that's lost is live once more and all thanks to me. I was alive and what I held was nothing. Now I am dead everything has life. I am the boy who hid the nothing. And now the nothing is free.