The Empty Pursuit

Vijay Raju- The Empty Pursuit- Word Count:365

His feet padded against the wooden floor of his room as he rose from the bed. Sweat tingled from his pores, chilling his skin and leaving him in a cold shudder. His mind wandered to the dark house at the far end of the street, a relic of past solemnities and mysteries. With his eyes fixated straight ahead, he walked out into the lit street, each foot propelling his body yet retreating back in fear, fear of the dark and sooty night surrounding the old house. There it was, the streetlamps tunneling him towards its foyer, trapping and ensnaring him in a vicious grasp. Because it is what youth must discover, must rectify on their own free will that bring out the real demons and shadowy figures; stories long forgotten, fears once so visceral, now mere smoldering ashes kicked and mixed in with the dusts of history. His heart beat a slow, voluminous thud, muffled under his crawling skin. He was as much a part of the old house as its very front door, having been born in the neighborhood. He was raised with it in his sight, matured with its presences looming over his entire life to a point where it seemed as if it spoke to him, watched him. His mind snapped back to reality, he was at the front door, his feet now resting on the rotting porch supported by the peeling paint of the columns. The yard was rife with tall grass uncut for years, the entire property seemed a capsule of time forgotten, left to pickle in its own mystery, barred from dissolving into present and future and forbidden to return to the glories of the past. The stories never really changed, the past of the house, the family that once resided in it and the traces they left behind all morphed into a tale meant to scare children. He wanted to end uncertainty, end childhood and blissful ignorance, to face what lurked in blackness. So he opened the door. Liquid-black air condensed around him. Everything felt heavy, and there was no light. The entire house seemed dead, empty of even mystery itself. “It’s nothing, it’s always been nothing,” he said. “Even nothing was once something.” Said a small voice deep in the darkness….

Point: Your illusions are as much a part of you as your flesh and blood.