by K.R. Moore.
With a stab and splatter, Kim sliced his dagger of a pen through the monsters composed of dark liquid at bay, dropping them back into the vast ocean of black from whence they came that he slowly waded through one step at a time.
Above the endless sea of black was an equally all-consuming void of white over the horizon. Something Kim paid little mind to as he just kept moving, slowly gripping at his pained wrists that were slowly growing pained.
Where am I going?
He just continued his trek of the ocean. The ink never rose past his knees yet was never ending. Kim kept going until stumbling upon a large factory in the distance concocted completely of the same black colorless ink. A surge of hellish memories flashed through his mind, from corporate abuse to personal drama in the workplace and everything in between.
At the sight of the building, he slashed his pen in its direction with a sting flaring back on him.
No, not here. I’m not needed.
I never was.
Another slash with the pen, a sting that cut deeper. He winced at the pain before opening his eyes to find the factory had melted back into the ink.
He walked deeper into the ocean, drowning out the pain simmering on the underside of his arms that refused to go away with the gentle hum of the infinite black waves around him.
As he moved, the waves accumulated and continued crashing down all over until before him rose countless sets of the same two desks composed of ink on the opposite ends forming a path on the horizon. One by one as far as the eye could see.
Upon each desk laid a letter. The text was in black except for the top which just had one word in bold white.
Rejected.
The letters of failure, the infinite desks over the horizon and the lack of anything to show in retaliation was just a reminder to Kim of how his career as an author had gone up to that day.
As he gazed at his pen that helped kick off his writing career, he couldn’t help but look at the desks again to find they had all morphed. Now mere seats untouched.
He slashed the two next to him in rage as they dissipated but the endless rows of the empty seats remained as they awaited occupation.
He analyzed the sight again and groaned in pain at chairs.
The sheer emptiness.
I put my heart and soul into my work for five years now. So where are you all…?
He ran through and slashed with his pen. Cutting and tearing away at all in sight as the pain crept up his arms worse by the second. Determined to tear down the seats he once eagerly set up and awaited to be filled by those who wanted to read his work and join him in the world of his heart.
Kim collapsed, nearly tumbling headfirst into the ink as the remaining seats vanished into the sea after about fifty slashes. The pain from each slash tormented his body like a wildfire, especially the burning agony along his arms.
As he kneeled there gathering his breath, thunderous banging erupted across the white canvas of a sky. Kim looked up, then behind and didn’t acknowledge it.
He gathered the last of his strength and pushed on through the fatigue and the burning in his arms until stopping again moments later. Kim thought for a moment as his eyes laid upon faint glimmers of red among the black inky waves.
Slowly, the red blotches plopped into the ocean one by one, dripping slowly like drizzle before growing into a steady shower of red as it began to paint over the black canvas.
Kim looked down at his pen, seeing it caked in layers of the red ink despite having not dropped it into the liquid. The banging around him grew more frantic and hastier, almost as if something was being broken down by the hinges.
As the red pooled around him, the exhaustion began to dim and a numbness took over his body. As he looked ahead, he just saw them all.
Demons in the ink that resembled his former friends lost to time or fame. Coworkers that looked at him with disgust, successful people he aspired to be and so much more.
Much more than he ever would be.
All he could see were the crimson waves that had surrounded him as the figures of ink all came closer and morphed into the red blobs that finally swallowed him under the sea. Kim’s body sunk into the darkness, slowly growing still as the red trailed from his body.
Kim faintly reached for his pen to find it no longer by his side before finally stilling and waiting for the wrath of ink to swallow him up into the darkness forever as the last traces of light from the white void above were quickly swallowed in the depths.
Above him, the banging that could be heard clearly even under the ink finally stopped with a final thunderous echo akin to a barrier finally giving way. Soon after, he felt hands grab him by the waist.
***
Orange.
Blue.
White.
And Light.
Those were the first things to grace Kim’s eyes after he opened them. No longer surrounded by a vast ocean of ink or under a white void of a canvas, but rather in a calm blue and white painted emergency room with the gentle hum of an orange heart monitor beeping next to him. The sky outside the window filled the room with gentle light from the cloudless sky.
He lifted his head up ever so slightly to find his body heavily patched up and resting in a hospital cot. His gaze achingly made its way towards his wrists that were much more bandaged than any of limb.
Kim just laid back and sighed as the memories of the void and the ocean of ink came into more understanding and the reality of what happened took over.
“Kim… are you awake?”
Next to him, a young woman around his age groggily shook herself awake from her nap on the desk. He groggily recognized her as his cousin and within half a second, she was on top of him, trapping the patient with a vice grip and uncontrollable sobs. Her hands came into view with knuckles scratched red raw as if they were hitting something with mighty force repeatedly.
Next to her, he saw some get well soon cards. From family, the few friends he had and even from a few coworkers.
His trusty pen that he had used for years to write his stories had been sealed in a red stained bag across the room, no doubt property of authorities at that point.
He eyed the pen and then the woman on him along with the greeting cards and gripped raised his arms as best he could without the pain becoming unbearable and eased to return the hug a little.
The ink that surrounded him in the void still lingered within his mind yet seeing her and the cards provided a second thought for Kim.
A reminder that maybe his creativity and he himself, were still at least somewhat cherished in the world.