Dripping into Equestria

Floating on the feeling of nothing, the man was in bliss. He felt no weight, no pain emanating from his lower back, the feeling of absolute freezing was gone, replaced by the feeling of comfortable warmth. His eyes remained closed, unseeing to the landscape around him, or the lack thereof. All around him, nothing existed. No earth, water, wind, or anything could be seen. The eyes would register it as an infinite black, and would cause the brain to naturally panic and try to fill the void with shapes. However, no matter how empty this realm of nothing seemed, his body remained an even glow. There were no shadows, nor an excess of light shining about him, only color.

Slowly, his mind began to notice the sheer amount of silence. There wasn't even the background noise that it had naturally blocked out over the years. It panicked, it knew this wasn't natural. His brain send signals to his ears, straining them in hopes of finding something, anything to fill the void of sound, but only came across nothing. Now it truly began to panic, rapidly sending signals back and forth the man’s body, receiving signals of absolute nothing, only a strange warmth was reported beyond the nothing all other senses sent. In it’s panicked state, it sent a signal to his eyes, forcing them open.

The man felt his eyelids fly open, and his heavily dilated dark green eyes tried to take in anything it could. Now, in sync with his brain, he began to panic, and rip his head around in the hopes of finding something, anything to counter the void before him. He noticed something strange though, despite his eyes sensing no light, his body was strangely aglow against the void. Everything was just… odd. There were no shades, not even when he looked under his jacket. No matter how much he tried to search for a shadow, he found none. It created a slightly disturbing effect of his cloths being flat despite the fact that he knew they were anything but.

His breathing picked up as he panicked more at this new discovery. This shouldn't be possible, why did he feel nothing but a comforting warmth about his body, why did no shadows reach out toward him from the crevices of his clothing, why was there nothing? Then, he noticed a strange feeling of faint coldness over where his heart should be. He looked down at his chest, and spotted a small lump the size of his fist pushing against his blue shirt.

He tried to raise his hand to it, but only succeeded in flinging his arm up painfully. Another thing he noticed, his shoulder was no longer dislocated. ‘Wait,’ the man thought, ‘ Why would my shoulder be dislocated in the first place?’

Sudden images flashed through his mind, showing him memories of the rain and the black sphere. At these new memories, he tried to calm himself down. It would not due to be panicking so in the situation. He forcefully slowed down his breathing, turning it from the rapid breathing from fear and panic, too long and slow breaths to calm his racing heart. He closed his eyes, forcibly preventing the image of the horrifyingly beautiful image of nothingness around him from being seen. Carefully, like walking on broken glass, he began to sift and organize his most recent of memories.

‘OK,’ he thought, ‘First I go out to enjoy the storm, then, as I’m in the midst of it, a black sphere came out of nowhere,’ at this his frown deepened, ‘After it tried freezing me, and I dislocated my shoulder, I fell unconscious on the beach. Only, I’m not on the beach anymore. I”m in some strange place of nothing, and more comfortable than ever.’ With his thoughts organized, he began to draw up a plan.

‘First, try to get my limbs working.’ Once more, he tried to lift his arm, only for it to fly up and back painfully.

‘OK, now try to do it slowly next time.’ Taking it slowly, using as little force as possible, he began to raise his arm. On what should of been an unbearably slow movement for him, it felt just a little faster than his normal speed.

‘Strange,’ he thought as his brow furrowed, ‘It seems I need to regain control of my body again.’ So, for what felt like hours in this timeless realm, the man began to try and regain control over his body. Eventually, the speed of which he needed to move became natural for him to do. Carefully, he felt around him for any solid ground, but found nothing. His heart began to rapidly beat again in panic, but he forced it down.

Opening his eyes again, he was once more introduced to the sheer sight of nothing around him. He slowly twisted his head, not wanting to either snap or wrench it again. Looking below him, he saw nothing. He gulped, images of cartoon characters from his childhood standing on nothing, only to look down and suddenly fall at the realization. Suddenly, he wished for a platform, he cared not of what it was made of, just to stand upon.

Then, he felt something. A pulse over and around his heart. He looked at his chest, to see the lump that he had forgotten about slowly moving to his left foot. Panic made itself known to him again at the unnaturally moving part under his cloths. As quickly as he could without harming himself, he tried to grab it with his hands. Only to feel a hardened sphere colder than any ice he ever felt, in fact, it greatly reminded him of the inside of the floating black sphere from before. He tried to block it off, but it moved unimpeded beneath his hands. Eventually, it reached his left foot, and he watched in both fascination and fear as a faintly lighter than the black around him circle formed under him, giving the feeling of solid ground beneath.

Carefully, he took a step forward with his right foot, feeling the solidity of the platform under him. Then, he moved his left foot up to his right foot, only to stop as he saw the platform move under him in sync with his left foot, but couldn't feel it. ‘What the hell...’ his awed mind slowly thought at this amazing discovering.

‘Does this have something to do with the sphere?’ he theorized. Without thinking of the consequences, he imagined the circular platform disappearing, only to panic when the sudden feeling of standing on nothing appeared again. Thinking quickly, he imagined the platform was back, bigger than ever. Once again, the circular platform appeared, this time a good two feet bigger, but it ended with tattered sides instead of the smoothness from before.

“Huh,” he said out loud, his slightly more baritone than average voice echoing endlessly back at him before fading minutes later.

‘OK… anyway, it seems that it has a limit at how far it could go.’ He thought, fading once more to the analytical side shown upon the discovery of the sphere on the beach.

The man sat there, playing with his new found “power”, forcing the platform into different shapes, separating it under him into separate platforms, only to try and change those individually into different shapes. Hours pass in this almost childlike state, unnoticed to the playing man. Eventually, he grew bored and once again realized he was still in this strange realm of nothing.

‘Just, where am I?’ he thought, ‘and more importantly, how do I get home?’ Slowly, he walked forward. It seemed to never end. He spent a lot of the time wandering, while also simultaneously thinking of new shapes for the platform. He came up with several theories as to where he was. They consisted of dreams, limbo, all the way to a really far off alternate reality. Onward, he continued walking, thinking and playing, playing and thinking. Never once did he grow hungry, not once did the tightening and dry feeling of thirst bother him, he never even tired.

Minuted passed into hours.

Hours into days.

Days into weeks.

Weeks into months.

Not once did he stop moving, never feeling the need too. In the beginning he tried to keep track how long he was walking, but without the sun and moon, or any light source for that matter, it was a futile attempt and soon abandoned.

A year passed unnoticed by him, to busy walking and playing with the sphere. He had begun to make 3D shapes out the ability. First, he made a simple foot long stick, and grasped it in his hand. It felt smooth, like still water, but at the same time more hard than stone. It was cold, but strangely the cold comforted him, like it was a part of him. Then he made a simple sword, and tested the sharpness on his finger, only for it to nearly cut through his finger at the slightest touch. He panicked at first, throwing away the sword, not seeing as it fell into small spheres and rapidly flew back into the platform under him, giving it more size. His attention was on his now bleeding index finger. He watched, fascinated as his life giving blood floated away from the cut, forming rippling spheres as they floated away. However, the fascination began to fade as he noticed something he hadn’t felt in a long time. The beginnings of fatigue.

At first, he was confused, he hadn’t felt tired before in this strange place, so why did he feel tired now? Like a slug trying to push through webbing, the realization slowly came to him. Since his blood kept floating away, the cut wasn’t clotting. He was losing blood, and he had no way to close the wound. He panicked once more, if he couldn't find a way to stop the bleeding he’d bleed out in this place of nothing. His body never to be found, his last words never to be heard, even if he hadn’t spoken since he began walking. Suddenly, he wished for a way to stop the bleeding. A tight black ring covered the cut, preventing the blood from leaving his body.

A breathed a sigh of relief, that was the most amount of panic he had felt in a long time. Looking around, and seeing that the constant scenery still hasn't changed, he continued walking, and creating shapes, only not testing any new object on himself.

Eventually, he grew bored of walking. Even after all this time it was getting him nowhere. So, he sat upon his platform, and started playing with the platform some more. He began to come up with more and more complex shapes, creating whole homes, villages, towns, and cities. He forced whole miniature landscapes into existence, everything detailed down to the smallest blade of grass. He had tried to create animals and people, but they only behaved as he wanted them too. They were fun for a while, but eventually it grew boring just making them do what he wanted them too.

Time passed, and eventually he laid down, bored of sitting. He materialized a black scalpel and a large block. Slowly and meticulously, he began to carve a shape from the block. A rough trunk formed, a hollow knot near the top where long and spreading branches billowed out from the base. Leaves swayed in an invisible breeze as he formed them each separately. He sat back, materializing the scalpel into the small flying spheres that were so familiar to him now. Pride blossomed in his chest, he created this work of moving black art. He made it with his own two hands, and a scalpel from his mind. Not once, since discovering his power, had he tried to shape anything by hand.

The pride began to fade though, as he realized something. Everything he created, they were without color. Everything, except for him, was a uniform black, only his platform and objects a lighter black. A sigh passed through his pale lips as he passed his hand through the tree. He was growing bored again, but this time it was different. He was growing bored of everything. He was never tired, never hungry, and never in pain, not even when he cut his finger with his first attempt at a sword.

He stood as he had a thought. All this time, he had been walking forward, never up, down, left, or even right. A small smile formed on those pale lips. He changed the structure of his circular platform, changing it into a two step staircase that never ended as he walked up it.

Slowly, the scenery changed, and he stopped. He noticed something above him. Something he hadn’t seen in a long time. A very faint white light hung suspended and blurry above him. He looked beneath him, only for yet another sight to shock him. His clothes began to gain the lost details from before, the faintest of shadows throwing his strangely 2D seeming 3D body into contrast.

A smile formed on his face, and he began to race up his self creating black steps. He ran toward the light, and watched as it slowly came into more and more detail. It was a sphere, much like the one on the beach all that time ago, but different. It threw of a bright white light that stung his dark green eyes, bringing hot tears into existence, and they actually fell, not turning into rippling spheres like his blood. He felt it, he felt a small pang of hunger, he felt immensely thirsty, he felt so tired. He felt everything he lost upon entering this realm.

He didn’t stop though, he continued running toward that like, watching as it continued to expand, growing bigger and bigger. Far bigger than the fist sized sphere at the beach. Bigger than a house. Bigger than a tower. Hell, he was sure it was taller than a skyscraper.

Eventually, he reached it. He didn’t know how he knew he reached it, but he just knew it. Slowly, he reached up toward that infinitely large sphere of light. The feeling of hunger, thirst, and just tiredness weighing him down, but still he reached up to it. Then, he felt it. He felt his fingers brush against the surface of it.

The feeling of cold washed through him again, but he welcomed it. It was different than the constant warmth from before. He close his eyes as his new exhaustion caught up with him, and he felt his platform disappear beneath him just before he slipped into unconsciousness, but he didn’t care. He could finally rest.

The man’s body began to fade to black against the sphere of light. It broke into inch wide spheres that floated aimlessly for only a second, before slamming against the sphere. They formed black circles where they hit, before fading, and disappearing into the light. Ripples danced across the surface of the sphere. The only proof that the man existed in this realm was the small globes of blood from so long, drifting endlessly in the void.