Author's Note
Believe it or not, I find joy in writing smaller stories. Maybe you will like them as well. I'll be making more in the future.
Endless
The hollow darkness stretches and fills every corner of the mind, silently spiraling endlessly as faint colors drip aimlessly until the mind deftly collects its bearings. The embroil of darkness clears and everything muddled in the black gradually dissipates. The heavy eyes strain to open; an undoubtedly intense undertaking indeed, but they manage.
Awoken to an unfamiliar area wrought with the delicate ground and balmy air flowing in a pleasant, languorous breeze of a late evening day. Blurred vision adjusts to a meek sunset out on the horizon; the eyes wander to a gloaming brown sky.
The fingers twitch and fidget, sinking into the ground as the hands begin to move. A gentle clutch reveals tiny grains to behold; of black fragile specks; crumbling to the touch. A strand is where this beholds, on the margin betwixt the land and sea share.
A struggle ensues for the self; to gather the strength to stand; a listless bend here and a lax stretch result in reverberating cracks followed by groans escaping the dry, cracked lips. Take a deep breath, stand, then take a shaky step forward. The struggle is beaten; the legs and feet are now at the total command of the self.
Dusting off the black grains that stuck onto the self before surveying the area. Far does the strand extend, and further still, as if forever. A loosened sigh slips through as the faint sound of muffled footsteps trekking on the black grains.
Onward and forward he goes until a chill forced a brief stop. The eyes wander to discern what was different; however, very little has changed. Attention drew toward the setting sun which has not moved since the self had awoken.
This is a bizarre area; a strange world, yet a tranquil world. He had wondered how long he has been here and why. He pondered these questions until something caught his ears, just beyond his sight.
The sound was quiet and weak; a feeble tune that rode the swiftness of the gentle wind. He heeded the call, and he espied a muddled glimpse of a shadowy figure standing in the strand's low tide.
He got closer and closer until he saw a woman, a beauty with long black hair admiring the horizon by her lonesome. He was drawn to her, marching up to the woman as she stared quietly ahead, humming the little tune.
"Have you ever seen a more beautiful sunset?" the woman asked him, swaying side-to-side. "It's so quiet here. What's your name?"
The stallion wanted to speak, yet he remained silent. It was a struggle to even stand and walk, but to speak? To conjure words into a cohesive way? It was better to remain tight-lipped.
The woman placed her hand on her breast and sighed, saying, "I see... My name is Bridget."
Bridget: a strong name for a woman so soft and beautiful. He had wondered how Bridget came to this place. Perhaps the same way he did.
"You're thinking about something, aren't you?" Bridget inquired. "Whatever it is, just know there isn't a way out of here; we are bound to this place."
The silent stallion slowly inspected Bridget's fragile exterior and saw her eyes glimmer a purple shine as she began to sit in the water in a laid-back posture. Emulous; he did the same, but he leaned forward instead.
"Why would you want to go back anyway?" she asked. "Here we don't have to try anymore. We don't need to live a life. We can just sit in peace for once and enjoy the ever-present red sun. No more problems in this place."
The stallion couldn't remember his past no matter how hard he tried.
Bridget submerged her hand under the water and moved it back and forth delicately. She played with the water with her fragile fingers, chuckling under her lips in an entrancing way before looking at the stallion with a faint grin.
She squinted at the stallion with an interest. "You have an odd figure, what are you exactly? A pony, like me? Not quite... but something... similar."
Within the self, there are many unknown things. The stallion isn't like Bridget. If not, then what is he? Another person bound to this world. Maybe that's all he needed to know, what he thought was good enough.
The quiet stallion stared blankly ahead; eyes half-closed with an inhale that expired a deep sigh. He felt the soothing wind pass by him and the wetness of the ocean beneath him, and then he keenly stared at Bridget's smooth visage. She looked ahead and up to the brown sky above. It was beautiful, like a painting; an awning drawn by an expert's hand, and then she gazed at him once more.
"This place is called the Obsidian Shores, and we are on the verge that gazes into the Majestic Blue; the ocean," Bridget informed. "If it's anything like The End, then we are truly bound here forever."
Despite wanting to stay in the Obsidian Shores, Bridget's demeanor was weary and grim. Perhaps no matter how much one longs to be away from everything; there will always be a desire to return.
"I've been here for a very long time," she said, her voice low and soft. "It's that silent feeling, y'know? The way we got here is unknown, and it stands that we may never know, but... that's okay."
Even silent, the stallion seems to share in Bridget's sentiments about wanting to go back to where they came from, however, if he weren't able to, that'd be fine. Even though he, in particular, cannot recollect his past, the feelings within his heart and his self remembers.
He places his hand on Bridget's shoulder with a gentle grip and smiles faintly. She shrugs off his faded smile and moves his hand away from her in a playful manner.
"I have a childish request to ask of you," Bridget whispered, twirling her black locks around her fingers. "I want you to stay with me. Too long have I been alone, and now that you're here, I don't want you to leave me."
The stallion was surprised to hear Bridget's proposition. She was lonely: to walk the black shores, to see the evening red sun setting over the ocean, to feel the water underneath her perfect snowy soles, to watch the brown sky overhead, Bridget did it alone.
In a place like this, having a friend will make it less lonely. The stallion looked onto the ocean and back at Bridget's face once more and nodded his head, agreeing to stay with her; to become her friend.
Bridget chuckled under her lips and smiled widely. "Thank you, but I have one condition," she whispered with a cutesy sly expression, laying a slender finger on her wonderful lips. "You have to tell me your name."
The stallion's thumping heart skipped a beat. He puts his hand on his head and he closes his eyes. It's pitch black. The sounds of the ocean waves and the breezy air fill his ears as he tries to recollect his name from memories of the past.
Something starts to form from within the dark corners. A speck of light; paltry, of a word that comes to mind. The only thing he can recall; is the word that matters most of all.
"My name... is Jack."
