A light appeared, so small that at first neither of them was sure it was real. But it persisted, a constant, unwavering point, which told them that it wasn't an hallucination, that it wasn't their atrophied eyes playing tricks on them.
But they didn't trust the light, so they continued to sit there, and watched it to see what it might do.
After a while, it had done nothing, so Ian rose to his feet, never letting his gaze fall from the light. It did not react. Nor did it seem lower than it had before.
"It's far away", Aideen whispered.
"Yes", said Ian.
She rose. They stood beside each other for a long time, minutes or hours, waiting for the other to take the first step, and in the end each found the courage at the same moment, and they took that step together. And then they took another, and another, and soon they were walking, crossing the void, with the tiny light their only point of reference, but their hearts lifted by this sense of movement, this new experience, this purpose.
They walked for a long time, a long way, in this place where measure meant nothing at all. Aideen was first to wonder if the light was receding as they walked, for it didn't seem to change in any way, as it should were they approaching. Ian was the first to voice the thought.
They stopped walking and watched the light.
There. "I... think... I think I saw it flicker".
"I... think... I saw it too."
They walked on, faster now, and soon they saw that they were right, the light did seem to flicker, to grow, and they broke into a run, filled with a lightness in their hearts, a joy they had never before known, as the light grew larger, and brighter, and then separated, it seemed, into many smaller lights... and they approached, in awe, a bejewelled sparkling circle of tiny flames, a constellation they could hold within their hands.
And they saw, below the flickering lights, that each flame had a tiny, narrow column supporting it, and the column stretched down into the darkness to some sort of base, and Ian reached out and touched the base, and the surface gave way, and when he pulled his hands away the stuff came with it.
He raised his fingers, the better to see in the flickering light, an urge came over him that he couldn't resist, and before he could think he had plunged his index into his mouth...
She waited for him to die, but he just smiled, his eyes closed, a moan of pleasure on his lips. And she smiled too, relieved, and together they cupped hands around the flames and they just were.
But in the darkness, they knew, was a force that moved through like a terrible breath. She was the first to hear it build, and he knew from the startled look on her face that it was coming, and then they could hear it, onrushing, and the flames began to flicker and the air - if that's what it was here in the void - moved on their skin, and the breath in one great swoop became a blast, and they closed their eyes...
Often in the coming aeons they would remember the flickering flames, and the desolation that swept over them when they opened their eyes to find the light extinguished, and they both knew the darkness was rendered forever darker by their having once seen the light, but neither spoke of it.
But they didn't trust the light, so they continued to sit there, and watched it to see what it might do.
After a while, it had done nothing, so Ian rose to his feet, never letting his gaze fall from the light. It did not react. Nor did it seem lower than it had before.
"It's far away", Aideen whispered.
"Yes", said Ian.
She rose. They stood beside each other for a long time, minutes or hours, waiting for the other to take the first step, and in the end each found the courage at the same moment, and they took that step together. And then they took another, and another, and soon they were walking, crossing the void, with the tiny light their only point of reference, but their hearts lifted by this sense of movement, this new experience, this purpose.
They walked for a long time, a long way, in this place where measure meant nothing at all. Aideen was first to wonder if the light was receding as they walked, for it didn't seem to change in any way, as it should were they approaching. Ian was the first to voice the thought.
They stopped walking and watched the light.
There. "I... think... I think I saw it flicker".
"I... think... I saw it too."
They walked on, faster now, and soon they saw that they were right, the light did seem to flicker, to grow, and they broke into a run, filled with a lightness in their hearts, a joy they had never before known, as the light grew larger, and brighter, and then separated, it seemed, into many smaller lights... and they approached, in awe, a bejewelled sparkling circle of tiny flames, a constellation they could hold within their hands.
And they saw, below the flickering lights, that each flame had a tiny, narrow column supporting it, and the column stretched down into the darkness to some sort of base, and Ian reached out and touched the base, and the surface gave way, and when he pulled his hands away the stuff came with it.
He raised his fingers, the better to see in the flickering light, an urge came over him that he couldn't resist, and before he could think he had plunged his index into his mouth...
She waited for him to die, but he just smiled, his eyes closed, a moan of pleasure on his lips. And she smiled too, relieved, and together they cupped hands around the flames and they just were.
But in the darkness, they knew, was a force that moved through like a terrible breath. She was the first to hear it build, and he knew from the startled look on her face that it was coming, and then they could hear it, onrushing, and the flames began to flicker and the air - if that's what it was here in the void - moved on their skin, and the breath in one great swoop became a blast, and they closed their eyes...
Often in the coming aeons they would remember the flickering flames, and the desolation that swept over them when they opened their eyes to find the light extinguished, and they both knew the darkness was rendered forever darker by their having once seen the light, but neither spoke of it.
