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Writober day 12: Acrid

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ACRID

In a distant place (if terms like “place” or “distant” could have any meaning) just beyond the ripples of space and time, He watched.

The walls behind him crossed in a corner that did not exist, finding themselves upside down and behind at the same time in a room that extended infinitely into unknown galaxies. Strange colors shifted continuously generating new, uncanny, tints, each perceptible with sleeping senses that humanity had not yet awoken.

Describing the figure without shape at the center of all this would be an useless waste of time: He simply existed, occupying a space, perceptible but at the same time incomprehensible.

Eternal and ephemeral, but above all… vast and powerful

“Hmm ..”

He was peering at something visible only to him (or perhaps visible beyond, in the dimension just next to ours?), a series of images confined to a sphere of luminescent void, almost like a bubble soap; and he was turning it over and over in his hands (if we could talk about hands) paying attention to every detail, trying to understand if that was accettable. And in the end, he took just a small piece of it, and devoured it in order to taste it.

Somewhere in the world, a mother of two fell to the ground and lost forever the memories of the older son as he had never existed. Brain aneurysm, the doctors said

“Hmm. Too sweet”

With a voice that was not a voice, He unwrapped the bubble in his hand and took another from the shelf behind him. This time too he studied it for a long time and, after a few decisive moments that lasted eons, he tasted a piece.

“Taste like nothing” he complained aloud

Somewhere in the world, a company employee, after 40 years of work in accounting, sat down at his desk unable to do calculations of any kind. He then lost his job and committed suicide a few years later

He discarded that one too and repeated this ritual several times, in different times and eras, until the last one.

After taking the bubble with him he did not spare the usual ritual, but he already knew that there was something different. He could glimpse the life behind that: the loose red hair and her inner art; bruises and tears, hatred and love; destroyed paintings out of stress, the sudden success, an hidden corpse; a second life …

He took just a piece of it. And he smiled.

“Acrid”

Satisfied, he opened the Mouth that was his Being and devoured her whole. Somewhere in the world, a woman fell to the ground, dead, now nothing more than an empty body without a soul

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