NOTHING COMES FROM NOTHING
It was as if something actually did … for once.
A small hand grasping for nothing, but nevertheless it was a real hand doing it. The moment felt sacred, even though it was just as easy to use the word ‘scared’. Not ‘sacred’. Was the sole witness scared or were the gestures of the hand having come from nothing indicating their own fear? But why was the witness’s first impression of the hand of it being sacred. Almost a religious act or a blessing, even a warning of greater things to come. Or a call for help to be rescued from a place that was the opposite of Heaven, a place that the witness dared not mention by name.
The witness looked around to see who else had noticed it. But, of course, the witness was surrounded by nothing. The witness was alone. Except for the witness who witnessed the first witness and wrote this as description. Which witness came first? Which witness came third?
The hand was, by now, reaching further into sight; in fact the arm was showing itself up to the elbow. A small hand and an elbow to scale. The fingers wagged as if they yearned for a glove to be fitted snugly upon them. An imploring or importuning motion that hypnotised the first witness. Nothing had ever before given birth to such sadness by the hand’s apparent ability to bless or terrorise, an ability that was coming to nothing. The hand had tried to use methods of being *both* sacred and scary when hauled fully into the open, and then later given clothes to match the glove. The second witness who had written about the first witness, it seemed, had sacrificed a red glove to satisfy the new arrival’s needs. And should another hand blossom forth, they seemed ready to sacrifice a second red glove. Even a third red glove. Nothingness had won or nothingness had lost. And the prospect of a third hand was one implication too far! An implication regarding exactly who or what was coming through as owner of the hand. And how many of such owners!
All the witnesses, by now had vanished into nothing, scared that there could be no ending other than a monstrous one. A Hell of elbows linked each to each as a ravening elbow creature. Or a sacred angel elbow with all its red gloves now come off, each disposed as a sac of nothing.
Candle Dreaming