Falling to Nowhere, Standing on Nothing

Henry Kipps

People think dreams aren't real just because they aren't made of matter, of
particles. Dreams are real. But they are made of viewpoints, of images, of memories
and lost hopes.
Neil Gaiman
* * *
Rachel woke up in her bed, asleep. She looked around and saw a vast grayness,
an empty void, filled only with the occasional floating grey bubbles, as there always
were here. Her bed moved out from under her as she stepped onto an invisible ground,
stumbling like she always did. She walked further into nothingness, entering a large
hallway, with a colorless rug lining the floor and colorless walls towering over her on
either side. Her gaze drifted down the hallway and settled on a humanoid figure in the
distance, beautiful, immaculate to the last detail, and Rachel ran toward her, yet no
matter how fast she went she got no closer. She recognized the figure; though its face
hid behind long flowing hair and its back was turned, it was most definitely Jess.
Rachel woke with curiosity.

Rachel slept and once more she awoke in the grey, bubbly limbo; once more she
stumbled as she stepped onto the vacuum. She took off running, and found herself in
the barren corridor she had been in before. She ran with passion, ran to reach Jess, ran
with passion for Jess. Fruitful were her efforts as she approached the woman who faced
away, smooth arms hanging loosely by her sides.
Jess, Rachel called, her voice soft yet booming in the fabricated hall.
Jess turned around, and she was just as perfect as Rachel had imagined, except
for her distinct lack of a face; every emotion, every feeling, every fear and every
pleasure tucked away behind a mask of smooth skin, unknown to Rachel.
Talk to me, Jess, please!
Jess didnt talk, her non-existent eyes staring straight through Rachel, picking her
apart from the inside while Rachel couldnt even see Jesss outside.
Rachel woke with determination.

Her bed fell to nowhere and Rachel jumped off, a perfect landing onto the gray
void. She found Jess a ways off and went to her side, unsure of what she might see.
Jess tuned to her, a sparkle in her bright eyes and a smile that could lift Rachel up

during her lowest moments on her very real face. The grey around them slowly became
more flushed, and turned peachy. Jess held out her hand and Rachel took it, and they
held each other as Jess let something fall into Rachels palm. Uncurling her fingers,
Rachel saw the blood-red petal of a rose, and felt the rhythmic beat of its heart,
continuously pressing into her palm. She clenched her hand and the petal moved to an
unknown pocket somewhere on some article of her clothing, safe. Jesss voice rang;
Come back again.
Rachel woke wearing a light smile.

Again she woke. Jess was right in front of her, the peachy, carefree bubbles
floating around her wispily, her smile filling up the emptiness, and Rachel was content.
You came back, Jess uttered without a sound. And Rachel opened her palm, the
rose petal materializing to resting in the middle, so Jess could reach out and take it
again. Jess held it to her chest and she folded in on herself, becoming the most
beautiful and vibrant red rose Rachel had ever seen. The rose fell softly into Rachels
awaiting hands, and she held Jess tightly. The sky and the ground and everything else
turned a vibrant pink-red, and Rachel felt like she was floating more than ever.
Rachel woke with a pounding heart.

Rachel was already awake, for shed been in a dream all day. She sat in the pink
bubbles and held tightly onto the rose, wallowing in its beauty, losing herself in its
aroma, basking in its allure. But soon, oh, all too soon, wooden flooring seeped into
nonexistence and lifted the two onto a stage, and when Rachel opened her eyes she
saw a crowd of faceless people, in everything from a torn T-shirt to a three piece suit,
looking back at her with their not-eyes. An unwanted spotlight shone from an unknown
location on an unaccepted Rachel, illuminating all she wanted to keep in the dark. The
nothingness turned a nasty shade of purple as beams of bright light shot from where the
faceless peoples mouths werent, and hit her right in her thoughts.
Youre disgusting.
How can you hold close a flower such as yourself?
You dont know how to love!
The beams of words were piercing Rachels heart, and as the audience grew in
size and menace, Rachel ran from the stage, through the sticky purple vacuity and
through the painful hatefulness until isolating walls grew around them, sealing them in
darkness. Rachel escaped inside herself, and a daisy fell to the cold floor and lay
across the rose.
Rachel woke trembling.

When Rachel again stirred, she was already moving, her white petals carried at a
brisk walk by Jess through the heavy blue bubbles. Faceless figures stood in the
distance, and fired bullets of words at Rachel, but Jess turned, stationing herself
between Rachel and the offender. Rachel heard nothing as walls formed a familiar
hallway around the two, protecting them, keeping them to themselves. The sky faded
from a saddening blue to heart-warming pink as Rachel found her feet and arms and
head.
The pair continued onwards to see a market stand run by an old lady who busied
herself with her knitting, but Rachel wasnt close enough to see her work. She tried to
move nearer but Jesss strong yet incorporeal arm held her back, pointing to a shape
who approached the woman. The black-cloaked apparition walked up to the stand just
as the old woman finished her knitting, cutting the yarn with glistening scissors. She
held up the final product; a perfect rose, and a perfect daisy. The macabre figure
reached out purposefully and plucked the daisy from the womans hands. Turning to
face Rachel, the creature pulled back his hood to reveal a stark white face, devoid of
skin or flesh or blood. The bubbles snapped to a painful yellow.
Rachel woke with a sick feeling in her stomach.

Rachel awoke in her bed and reeled, blinded by the horrific brilliance of the yellow
void. She stepped onto the ground-that-was-not-ground but stumbled and fell,
overwhelmed by a feeling of unplacable trepidation. She got back on her feet and
looked to see Jess standing before her, eyes wide and eyebrows lowered and mouth
open in shock, holding her rose before her in shaky yet beautiful hands.
Wheres my flower?
Jess stared blankly at something behind Rachel, and she turned to see the
cloaked death standing fifty paces away, a familiar daisy clutched in his bony hands. His
fingers pinched a single petal and he pulled, and everything flashed bright white,
blinding Rachel as she screamed in pain. When her sight returned she saw death, his
crooked fingers resting on another petal, a choking tension filling Rachel. But before he
could pull, Jess stepped out from behind him, and held out her rose. Time slowed and
death smiled an unsettling smile, a terrifying smile, a bone chilling and spine wrenching
smile, as he reached out and grabbed the rose, letting the daisy fall from his grasp and
be carried by a sudden gust of whistling wind to Rachels feet. Death ripped off a rose
petal, and Jess cried out, and tears grew heavy in Rachels eyes. Death picked another;
No! Another; Stop! Another; Youre hurting her! Another and Rachel closed their
distance in a quarter of a second, her fist inches away from hard, white bone. Death just
smiled, snapping the rose in two.
Rachel woke weeping.
* * *

When Rachel came to, she was lying on the invisible ground, her face wet with
tears. When her eyes dried she picked herself up, but had trouble finding any footing on
a void black as deaths cloak. She took a step and tripped over nothing and fell back to
the sky, but again rose to her feet, stumbling forward through the blackness, a
destination in mind.
Rachel reached the old lady with her knitting and her stand and rose before her,
her face sullen and her eyes tired, yet determined.
Sorry, dear. Im afraid were both all out of roses.
No. I know shes still somewhere.
The lady sighed. Its always the doves that are stubborn.
No! Shes not! It cant be!
But it is, said the ladys face, more eloquently than any words. Her stand melted
into a vast garden full of every flower Rachel could imagine, except for a rose.
Rachel woke alone.

Rachel turned, leaving the old woman to her knitting. She trudged on through the
blackness, putting foot before foot, again and again, hour after hour, until she came face
to face with those with no face. The bubbles adopted a fiery red hue as the faceless
miscreants threw their words at her.
Its for the best. Maybe youll change, now that its over.
It was unnatural; of course it wouldnt last.
Rachel filled with anger and hate and loathing and abhorrence, lashing out at the
faceless figures. This is all your fault! Your tainting words and slander led to depression
and doubt, and it took all of her to fight it and she had nothing left for the rest of herself.
Your fault! Your fault! Your fault! YOUR FAULT!
She blocked out our words.
She taught you to do the same.
You have forgotten her lesson in your rage.
Screaming wont bring anyone back.
Rachel would have cried if she hadnt already exhausted her supply of tears. She
knew they were right and hated that they were and hated that she knew. She turned tail
from them and ran through the bloody redness.
Rachel woke in a bitter rage.

Rachel kept running. She ran and ran, and she ran, and eventually she slowed as
the void donned a greenish mask. A small shop fell from the sky and rooted itself in front
of her, and she walked in, a radio blasting silence at her. The walls were painted with
pictures of shelves and goods, and the glass display cases that lined the counter were

dusty and barren. Behind a black cash register stood death, a sly smile on his face as
he handed Rachel a piece of paper listing goods and prices.
Menu
A way to move on- One heart.
A way to forget- One mind.
A way to end it all- One daisy.
A way to recover whats lost- Sorry, kid.
You need to lower the price, Rachel ordered, gesturing to the final item without
moving a muscle.
My prices dont change. Deaths voice was a low rasp, sharp enough to cut
concrete, and his smile stayed perfectly still as he talked.
Please. Rachel held out a daisy; it was missing one petal.
Sorry, kid. Death unraveled into smoke and the building around him vanished, the
noiseless screech of the radio fading as Rachel was once again surrounded by a
familiar nothingness.
Rachel woke without hope.

Rachel was still. She looked at the daisy in her hands, looked hard and long and
concentrated on it with all her might. Her body melted away and her mind fell into the
flower, the white petals laying down on absolutely nothing. She was surrounded by a
soul-crushing blueness, but her soul could not be crushed any more. She thought of the
last time she had been a flower, held by Jess, protected by Jess, but no longer, but
never again. Jess was gone and she had no one to blame and no way to get her back
and all she could do, all she wanted to do, was lie unmoving, soaking up the blue
bubbles. Shed been denied by fate and exiled by strangers and robbed by death, and
she just wanted a break, a break that lasted forever.
Rachel woke with an indescribable sadness.

Rachel woke and still she lay there. She slept again and woke once more but it
was the same day after day, month after month. Yet ever so slowly, ever so gradually,
the emptiness lost its saturation, the blueness slowly fading, dulling, until Rachel existed
once again in a grey expanse. And she stretched out her arms and her neck, standing
on her feet for the first time in an indiscernible period of time, and felt the last strands of
melancholy and regret disappear from her subconscious.
Rachel woke up.