a void
Shelley Stein-Wotten
There you are, all hunched over and crouching at the side of this lane – like a wayward armadillo. Good lord, the dirt here is Peeps yellow! I’ve been searching for you up, up and down these mauve meadows. Can’t ever find anyone here, should really think of having an arrivals station. Ooh it could be like one of those old trolley stops, and we could have snacks. People like to eat here. But what to have … drop cookies? No, bars. No, drop. Or croissants. Never mind, we’ll have a meeting.
Sorry, spinned off there. Fair warning, that happens a lot here. Hard to keep track of what you’re doing sometimes. Anyways, welcome to the void. Is this your first time here? I’ll be your tour guide. Just look for my chartreuse umbrella if you fall behind. On your feet, let’s go.
How’s your breathing? Ok yeah? Excellent humidity in the void – not too dry, not suffocating. Alright, first stop. On your left here we have the violet lake. Nice and still. You could dive in if you want. Yeah go ahead, I’ll wait. There you go…. See you splashing around a lot – need some water wings? Heh heh. I’m kidding, you’re an adult, drown if you want to. Nah, I know you can swim. I’ll take the golden bridge and meet you on the other side.
Welcome to this side of the lake. Shall we continue with the tour then? Look down. That canary colored clay is common in these parts. Great to bury your hands and heart into, swirling and slopping up in mud pies. And I’m hungry again. What do you think, should we pause the tour and see if they’ve got pie in the dining hall? We’ll go after, we’ll go after.
Just a short stroll up these turquoise hills and we come to the reminiscing pool. Very popular around here…. You ever heard a caterpillar eat a leaf? Surprisingly loud.
You smell that old salt? Comes from this place: the estuary of brooding. Quiet place. Good for sifting through faults. Lots of bodies of water around these parts. Market research indicated to us that people find them soothing and they help them find perspective.
Sorry, you got any questions? What’s that? Hahaha. We don’t just let anyone inside the void. You gotta have the right mindset, see? You know the one I’m talking about since you’ve got it. The one where, in an unsuspecting moment, you glance down at your hands, and your flesh, it’s just tiny vibrating cubes and spheres pulling away from each other. You can see the spaces between your liquorice veins and discus blood cells and twisted ribbons of hemoglobin proteins and you don’t think you could possibly descend anywhere tinier and you’re suddenly very aware of how there are very few tendons tethering your heart to its cavity and keeping it from falling into your gut—
Ok here’s the indigo plateau. Everyone visits it at least once. Good place to lie down – prostrate, balled up – up to you. Hey, you think you could survive on raw seed sprouts? Supposed to be a super food…. Think about it and let me know.
We’re passing over the aubergine fields now. A lot of purple here in the void. Too much? We’ll have a meeting. Oh purple is your favorite color? Don’t think I have a favorite. Yes I do, teal. No. Brown.
Let’s keep walking. Oh you wanna float? Sure, ride those air currents. Wear this life preserver though. Company policy. You signed the waiver when you got here, right?
There’s more to wander through over that ridge. Even I don’t know everything that’s here. You’ll find your way. Or won’t. We’ve seen that…. What’s that? It’s up to you how long you choose to stay. Maybe you won’t want to leave. We’ve had that….
Hey now, don’t float off into the bubblegum sunset, the tour’s not over.
A word of advice: this ‘place’, this cocoon in the clouds, it’s nice – fine to be here for a while. The color scheme is a little pulsating for my liking. All I’m saying is you might want to consider more earth tones with pops of bright. Hold on, don’t wander off, let me finish. Look, you’ve got an all-access pass to the void, but you don’t have to use it. Of course it’s tempting, but so is a bath-full of melted chocolate. Trust me, it’s really just a mess, and after, like, half a tub of it, you’re just tired and you really start to question why you thought the plumbing could handle that much glop.
What I’m saying is, one, I’m not a real tour guide and I don’t exist; and two, you can transit in and out of here as you please. It’s your decision. It’s all waiting for you – the fear, the loss, the wonder, the beauty. The brick and the mortar. There is no 24/7 housekeeping service out there. It’s up to you. You understand that, right?
Ok, tour’s over now. I could hang out for a bit, but after that I should go clean my bathtub.
Shelley Stein-Wotten’s writing has appeared in The Haven, The Temz Review, R U Joking?, JÓN Magazine, and The Belladonna and her sketches have been performed in Vancouver and Seattle. She writes and eats mostly vegetables from her home in Nanaimo, B.C., Canada.