Welcome to the Void

        There was nothing.  An impenetrable void which encompassed all that was, or all that wasn't, really.  Only one thing could bring to life the blank realm:  The soul that resided there, apart from other dimensions, not living, but existing.  In absolute solitude.

        Were there eyes to see, all would be grayscale and empty.  There was nothing to touch but space, nothing to hear but the heavy pressure of ongoing absence.  The energy of this place was still and immovable.  Until he returned to give it movement through magic.

        If time existed here, much would have passed since his last venture to the parallel planes.  He would return to recuperate and store up energy and strength for his next endeavor.  The static void was all he could consider home, for in other places he could be little more than a ghost, having jurisdiction in only the abandoned atmosphere no other being sought after.  Alas, he didn't have the talent to revolt from the laws of the universe and maintain a physical body at the same time.  To live required surrender.  And he was a fighter.  So, in truth, he existed as a separated soul rather than a part of the higher power experiencing itself subjectively. 

        The grayscale quivered, gradually becoming darker in an area, shaping the figure of a door.  The door solidified, the knob gleaming gold, the wood transforming to a beautiful shade of navy.  The edges surrounding the door glowed with a heavenly light, and when it was opened, the brightness poured into the empty realm, filling it with an otherworldly vibration that sparked a reaction in the nothingness.  Energy buzzed and moved, and the gray realm crackled with electricity, as if expectant.

        A person walked through the door, slammed it shut, and with each step inside the dimension, created a home.  Under his black boots was a shiny hardwood floor, around him walls appeared, upon which hung pictures of past lives.  He created instantaneously, with only the will of his spirit and the visualizations from his mind, an entire house of his liking.  Passed windows there could be seen green pastures and a cloudless pastel blue sky.  The leaves of a tree swayed gently in the conjured wind, and blades of grass made waves on the hillside.

        He shrugged off his leather jacket, letting it fall to the floor.  His t-shirt followed suit, as his blue jeans would have, had they not been trapped around his ankles.  His boots were still on, so he tripped face-first in the hallway, then grumbled to himself as he struggled to pull off his shoes.  Nude but for socks halfway off his feet, he treaded to the beautiful living room and plopped onto the wide, overstuffed couch, spreading himself out and burying his face in a pillow.  A thin blanket materialized and covered his body.

        The boy released a long sigh of relief.  He adjusted his position so he could gaze out the window.  What he was looking at, however serene, was merely imagined into existence; it wasn't real.  He tried not to be sad about it, but more than the prevalent illusion that was the stuff of his world, the issue that deepened the knife of melancholy was loneliness.

        With a wave of the hand, he made the window slide open.  Outside could be heard the sweet chirping of bluebirds.  He let their song lull him to sleep, and at long last, he was at peace.  If only for a moment.