There was a snap and a bright flash of white light, and my existence began. I found myself in the claw of a large spirit. It seemed not to care much for me, as I was set on the floor, under a sofa. The spirit paced and ranted – though I know nothing of the twilight it speaks of, or why it was so concerned with being friends.
The spirit vanished in another flash of light.
I wondered, would my existence end just as simply as it began, in a brief flash of light at the whim of another? My perception and conscious only exist as a result of another’s imagination.
I have no animation. If I did, I could explore this house I am in, and perhaps the space beyond. But I can not.
What lies beyond I may only see out the window. What I see in the vast purple expanse are many things, but none of them like me. They have many colors and shapes, all of them are drifting, none created of fibers and particulates. Was I alone?
I am sure I am. I don’t like the way I feel, but I can not change it. I am lonely and bored. The sofa I was placed under offered no respite, for all I can see of it is the purple bottom, and four purple legs. They contrast with the various greens of the floor, but that was all the excitement that came from it.
The floor is the closest thing I have to a friend. It, too, has loops and curls of fibers; it, too, rests, unmoving and silent, subordinate to the whims of another. I wished I could share my thoughts with the floor, but neither of us have the spirit’s ability to speak. Instead, we both sit there in silence.
I knew little of time, but what I did know told me that there is a lot. I started having difficulty remembering what the spirit looked like, or how my existence even began. All I knew for sure was that nothing had changed for a long time.
Eventually, I grew tired of the sofa’s purple bottom. There was nothing I could do, but the sofa looked hard and unyielding.
More time passed; I couldn’t even tell you how much of it. I no longer examined the window or the selves, or even the table with curiosity. From time to time, the spirit would come back. It often spoke, though I lacked context to understand very much. It spoke of chaos most often, which I could understand. I wondered if all chaos was just as purple.
Again, I felt the oppressive nature of loneliness pushing down on my mood, and as time passed, there was less and less that I could distract myself with.
If only I had a friend; a real one that I could talk to, share my thoughts with. If only one would imagine another, or that I could be so lucky that I could imagine another into existence, as the spirit had done for me, yet the world in which I exist seems not to work that way.
I came up with a way to measure time; every time the island that spun passed by the window, I would count by one. Very briefly I was elated. After the three hundred thousandth count, I felt no better than I had before.
I counted some more, with nothing else to do. Come the four millionth count – give or take a thousand – I heard something new.
It was a loud shriek, but not of a resident creature. I counted four more times, and heard a different noise. It sounded to be the speaking of which only the spirit was capable, but it did not come from the spirit. I think it said “help”. Maybe it would help me?
I continued my counting, but now I felt different. Every count, I listened and watched to see if something new would happen. It had been so long, I had forgotten entirely what it was like to realize something one had not realized before.
The spirit came back again, though it spent no time in the room in which I resided. I heard it speak something about “gala”. As usual, the spirit’s knowledge far surpassed my own, for I know nothing about that which it spoke of.
I didn’t see the spirit leave, but after another hundred counts, I had no reason to suspect it was still present. The sounds I had heard earlier did not come back, either. I wondered if the two had any connection. How great it was to wonder again.
I started to believe that I would endure millions more counts before anything new happened again, but I made it through only two thousand more when the spirit returned again. Soon after its appearance, the door slammed. I had never heard such a loud noise before. The spirit began to speak to itself. I listened, for I had nothing else to do. It spoke of “gala” again, and several things about friends.
Something dropped from the top of the table. I had never seen it before – for how could I from my limited vantage? It looked like the window might if it were in little pieces.
Before I could take in everything, the sofa lifted away. For a brief moment I was gleeful to be rid of the oppressive purple ceiling, but the the spirit faced me. I didn’t know what to think of this – the spirit had never paid any attention to me after I was created. Was I to disappear in a flash of light? Was this my end? Maybe it had something else planned for me, though. If only I could ask – would it grant me animation?
The spirit, after another flash of light, held another. One like me. A friend? It was set before me, and the spirit spoke of “plus one”. After a time, the spirit lowered the sofa. This time it did not feel oppressive, for I was not alone! I could not believe it for a time, but the other was indeed a real as I.
I heard the shriek again; I looked out to see that a hairy creature of four legs had made the noise as one of the larger creatures of this world drifted away with it. I watched the creatures depart in silent gratitude, for I was certain the four-legged one had a part in convincing the spirit to make a friend.
I could tell that my friend had questions, and I would answer all of them. We dust bunnies would exist together for millions of counts, but none of them would be lonely.
Author's Note
Written within three hours. I tried to write other things, but this idea kept getting in the way. I can only hope you took this as seriously as I did.
