August Intruder- Chapter 244- Nothing (Patreon)

The door was without sensation. Touching it left him with no feeling. It was as if his hand was not touching anything. He only knew that he was touching a door because he knew that he was touching a door. If he was asked to describe what it felt like he would have no answer to the request.

Melmarc pushed, and the door creaked.

He paused, wondering why a door with no color and no feel that waited for him in the darkness would creak when not too long ago he had considered the possibility of why a rich therapist’s door would creak at the hinges.

Pausing for a moment, Melmarc tilted his head and leaned to the side. He could not see the top of the door because the rose as high as the heavens, but he could see the ends of the door at the sides because they did not reach forever. So, he checked, to have a look at the hinges. And he could not see them.

On both sides, the doors seemed to go on forever.

I guess nothing I can do about that.

With that said and done, Melmarc pushed the door all the way open. The door budged by an inch and something stopped him.

Melmarc froze as a hand fastened around his wrist. He turned his head and found a familiar face standing next to him. But there was something off about the face. For some reason, it was as if it was older than it was supposed to be. It was like looking into the eyes of Uncle Dorthna’s identical twin brother if the brother was ten years older than him.

“Uncle Dorthna?” he blurted, surprised and confused. Also, a little intrigued.

The man—most likely Uncle Dorthna—said nothing in response. He did not even spare Melmarc a glance. Instead, he had his attention on the door. He studied it like a man studying his work. His eyes squinted as he watched it. He frowned a little, leaving wrinkle lines all over his forehead.

Melmarc watched him through the process.

The man’s lips squeezed a bit, almost as if he’d just found a problem. It left Melmarc wondering what the problem could possibly be. Although, he did have an idea what one possible problem was, but it had nothing to do with the door.

In the end, the man’s lips pressed into a thin line before he finally took his attention away from the door. Still holding onto Melmarc’s wrist, he finally looked at him.

“What are you doing here, boy?” he asked, and his voice was Uncle Dorthna’s.

Melmarc looked around, his confusion not abating. “I actually don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I was with Ark in school, we just finished a therapy session because of the whole portal thing and I kind of choked a boy, then Veebee went missing and we’re trying to find him, and I just appeared here.”

He watched his uncle throughout the entire explanation. Normally, Uncle Dorthna would’ve reacted to a few things. The therapy would be one, and his reaction would most likely be some barely suppressed facial expression of dislike or something along those lines. The other would be Veebee going missing. Maybe he would react to him choking a boy out, though.

Uncle Dorthna’s expression did not change at any point. Then Melmarc squinted a little looking at uncle Dorthna’s eyes.

“What happened to your eyes?” he asked.

Uncle Dorthna blinked once, then twice. “What about my eyes, boy?”

“They are…” Melmarc squinted, unable to find the words. The same color with the door.

But that didn’t make a lick of sense. If his eyes had no color then he wouldn’t be able to see them, would he?

But the door has no color and I can…

Awareness settled on Melmarc gently. He couldn’t see Uncle Dorthna’s eyes, he was simply aware of them, just the way he hadn’t been able to feel the door that his hand was no longer on but had simply been aware of it.

When the realization dawned, Melmarc found his uncle looking at him as if he was waiting for the realization to dawn.

Melmarc’s gaze moved from Uncle Dorthna’s eyes to the door. “What is this place, Uncle?”

Uncle Dorthna’s lips squeezed into another frown. It was a thoughtful one this time. A contemplative frown. His uncle was deciding on whether to tell him or not.

In the end, he sighed in resignation.

“What’s the first line of the bible?” he asked.

Melmarc didn’t have to think about it. “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.”

Uncle Dorthna nodded slowly. “And what do you know about the void?”

“The void?” Melmarc looked at the door and everything around them. “Uhm, nothingness?”

Uncle Dorthna nodded again. “Acceptable enough answers. In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth, like you said. This is the outcome of a million translations, but it does not vary enough from the original text to be an issue, so we will not go into unnecessary theology. And what do you think existed before God made his oh so special creation?”

Melmarc paused, wondering if it was supposed to be a trick question. “Nothing?”

Uncle Dorthna shook his head. “Not really. Before God created his loved creations, he was all that existed.”

Melmarc knew that school of thought.

“There wasn’t nothing before God created,” Uncle Dorthna continued. “Nothing came after the events of the creation. True nothing came after the creation.”

Melmarc looked around again. “The void.”

“No,” his uncle disagreed. “A common misconception, but the void and nothing are not the same.” He was still holding Melmarc’s wrist. “The void has things inside of it, even if the littlest of things. When you say there is nothing in a room, humans mean the absence of a physical thing, a tangible thing. That is why that is all living beings understand about the concept of the void.”

Melmarc fought the urge to sigh. “This is not a void?”

“You said the void in the beginning, and you were close.” Uncle Dorthna looked around. “This is the void. A place where everything goes to nonexist. Things that end up here are far few and between. They do not die or live, they simply cease to exist.”

Melmarc looked around again. “So, we don’t exist right now?”

“Not really.” Uncle Dorthna put a thoughtful finger to his lips. “You obviously exist.”

“But only those who cease to come here,” Melmarc pointed out. “I always assumed the rules and regulations of Existence were quite rigid.”

Uncle Dorthna cocked a brow at that. He opened his mouth, as if to say something but stopped, as if he was thinking better of it.

In the end, he said, “That’s the thing about being a self-generator of pure mana. Pure mana has a habit of bending the rules when you consider it plays a part in being the building block of the rules.”

“So—”

“The question, however, is this,” Uncle Dorthna continued, interrupting Melmarc, “are you here by coincidence or is this one of his mysterious ways he’s working in.”

Melmarc blinked. “Who? God?”

Uncle Dorthna nodded absently, still somehow lost in his own thoughts. Melmarc also noticed that the door was still slightly ajar.

“Why would you think he’s working in mysterious ways right now?” Melmarc asked, genuinely curious.

Uncle Dorthna blinked, looked down at him as if he’d forgotten that they were having a conversation. “Oh, that. God is not supposed to have access to this place.” He pursed his lips in deeper thought. “I had hoped that he wasn’t even aware of it, but I guess you can never hide things.”

Melmarc’s brows furrowed. Of course things couldn’t be hidden from God, at least not from the God the bible taught him about.

Uncle Dorthna nodded, as if agreeing with himself. Then he looked at the door once more. “What are the three irrefutable things that you know about God, Mel? What are those three things that the church always teaches you about God? That he is what?”

“Omnipotent,” Melmarc said.

His uncle nodded. “All powerful.”

“Omnipresent.”

“Everywhere.”

“And omniscient.”

“All knowing.” Uncle Dorthna placed his hand on the door. With no knob, all he could do was push it. For some reason, Melmarc found himself dreading the very existence of his uncle opening the door fully. “Mel.”

Melmarc hesitated in the darkness. “Yes, uncle?”

“Is there anything that you would say God did not create?”

Melmarc didn’t have to think about it. Still, he did. Obviously, he didn’t find anything. He found… his eyes widened slightly.

“No,” he answered.

“And when you think of something that God did not create, what do you come up with?” Uncle Dorthna asked.

Melmarc knew the answer. “I come up with nothing.”

“And when you think of what God does not know, what do you come up with?”

Again, Melmarc knew the answer. “Nothing.”

“And when you think of a place God cannot be, should he choose to be,” he looked at Melmarc now, hand still on the door, “what do you come up with?”

Melmarc answered slowly. “Nothing.”

“And when you think of something God cannot do if he puts his mind to it, what do you come up with?” Uncle Dorthna guided him once more.

Melmarc swallowed. “Nothing.”

Uncle Dorthna sighed, as if he had not just insinuated whatever it was that he was trying to insinuate. “I guess your presence here has proven a point for me. If you are here, then God is aware of this place.” He looked around, as if disappointed. “I’ve always disliked his mysterious ways.”

“Uncle Dorthna,” Melmarc said before his uncle could continue. “Can I ask a question?”

His uncle looked down at him with eyes that were now pink. “I’m listening.”

“Are you an enemy of God?”

Uncle Dorthna chuckled lightly, and he reached his hand up and ruffled Melmarc’s hair. “Are you going to be Ark now and fight against God for me?”

Melmarc wasn’t sure. If the Lockwoods decided to become enemies of God, he could see a future where he would not be on their side. it did not make him very christ-like—Christian—but it was what it was.

“I don’t know,” he said in the end.

Uncle Dorthna smiled softly. “And that is as good an answer as you should have.”

“No,” Melmarc said immediately, refusing to allow his uncle to change the subject. “You did not answer the question.”

Uncle Dorthna cocked his head to the side, hand still on the colorless door. His smile softened a little more but did not disappear. “Then ask the question again.”

Melmarc was more than inclined to. “Are you an enemy of God?”

Uncle Dorthna looked around, curious. “And that makes it one, comma, eight, one and nine.”

“What’s that?” Melmarc asked. “I can’t decipher what exactly it is, maybe a number?”

Uncle Dorthna shook his head, but not as if it was an answer. “Don’t worry about it. I was just checking something. As for your question,” his smile brightened up a little, like an adult trying to assure a child that there was no problem, “I believe that two criteria must be met to be a person’s enemy. First, you must hate the person or feel some level of hostility towards them.”

“And the second?”

“You must be capable of being a threat to the person and perhaps vice versa.” Uncle Dorthna shrugged. “I don’t think you can call yourself an enemy if you do not feel any form of hostility or negativity towards the person, and you cannot call yourself an enemy if you are not capable of hostility towards them.”

“So you don’t feel hostility towards God?” Melmarc asked.

“Oh, no, I definitely do.” Uncle Dorthna nodded emphatically. “Hate his guts. But I am not a threat to him. I am not capable of exerting said hostilities towards him in any way or form.” He paused. “Not yet, at least.”

“So you’re trying to be an enemy of God.”

“Nope. I’m trying to be capable of becoming a threat to God.” He shook his head as if disagreeing with his own answer. “Scratch that, I am trying to become a threat to God.”

“Why?”

“Because I can.” Uncle Dorthna pushed the door a little more, open it by a fraction of an inch.

“But—” The wave of horror and dread that built up within Melmarc was so sudden and instantaneous that the words died in his throat.

“Good,” Uncle Dorthna said. “The Lord works in mysterious ways, but perhaps he has forgotten that so do I.”

And suddenly, Melmarc knew hate. He hated something more than the man who had attacked his mother when he was a child. He hated and loathed something more than Norman.

He hated the fear and dread that he felt within him. Suddenly, he wanted to rise above it. He wanted to trample upon it.

As if on cue, Uncle Dorthna released his hand. Melmarc stepped forward immediately, into the door without a color.

“Where are you going?” Uncle Dorthna asked.

Melmarc’s eyes were fixed on the door even with hate and fear warring over command of his body. “There.”

Uncle Dorthna shook his head. “There is nothing behind this door, Mel. At least nothing for you.”

“And yet…” Melmarc stepped forward.

“Nope.” Uncle Dorthna stopped him with a hand on his head and pushed him back. “You shouldn’t be here. Go find your missing Voidbeast.”

“I don’t like this feeling,” Melmarc objected.

“It wasn’t really supposed to happen like that,” Ark said. “I definitely didn’t expect you to fall down.”

Melmarc blinked, confused. He stared at the world around him and he was back in Fallen High, but he was not standing. He was half-fallen, caught upright in Ark’s arms.

“You good?” Ark asked him.

Melmarc blinked some more as the evening skies looked down at him. “How long was I out?”

Ark shrugged. “A few seconds. Sometimes it could be longer. It can feel that way at times. More importantly, did you find Veebee?”

Melmarc tried to orient himself back to what was happening. He had been trying to find Veebee.

“I did,” he answered.

“Good.” Ark released him and he stood by himself. “Then let’s go get it before it eats someone.”

Melmarc had questions, but he wasn’t even sure who to ask them or how to ask them. He felt like he was supposed to have a headache but didn’t. Regardless, he would find Veebee now, after all, he still needed to know why Veebee thought that Ark was going to die.

“We are looking for a building with armed people at the entrance,” he said, walking forward.

Ark paused. “Oh.” Then he grinned and rubbed his hands together as they walked. “Sounds like this is going to be fun.”

…

“Will you close it?” a voice asked from the darkness around.

Dorthna turned his head and looked in its direction. “You know you can come out now, right?”

“I do.” A young man stepped out of the darkness and was given form. He had flowing white her and clean white beards. His eyes were sharp, yet Dorthna could see the fear behind them. “I just did not think you would want me to intrude.”

Dorthna smiled. The man always understood. “You were right.”

The man walked a little further. He wore nothing but a pair of pants fashioned from what Dorthna was sure were the wings of a black dragon. He cocked his brow at that, and the man looked at his pants.

“A gift,” he said before coming to stand with Dorthna, at a distance that kept him away from the door.

“Are you not curious as to why I didn’t want him to see you?” Dorthna asked.

The man shook his head. “Not really. I’m assuming you know who he is.”

“I do.”

“Then I’m guessing it’s for the same reason people who know you but not me are kept away from me.”

“Yes,” Dorthna answered. “It is not time for him to meet you. Preferably, he never should.”

The man nodded. “I understand. It is a gift and a curse in its own way.”

“True,” Dorthna agreed, looking at the indicator above the man’s head. It read simply.

"I do have a question," the man said.

“I’m listening.”

“How did he get here? I thought you and I were the only ones who could come here.”

Dorthna tilted his head to the side, the door still open. He thought about it before making a decision. “I guess it has been a very long time since we last spoke. But you will not be meeting the child.”

The man bowed respectfully, then took a knee. “I shall heed your words.”

Dorthna smile at that, knowing that the man listened of his own accord. For before him was the only other person alive that he knew of who possessed free will. He knelt in subservience, and above his head was a single indicator.

It read simply.

[The First Man]

And Melmarc was nowhere near ready to meet him.

Not yet.