None in Hellen

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
As One died, One finds oneself in some place. Trying to figure out what One's options are now, One gets oneself in trouble.His genius becomes his curse.

Submitted: June 04, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 04, 2017



The police were investigating the case. A constant-truth-seeking process made them tired and bored. One was pleased not to be troubled with such down-to-earth issues anymore as discovering up-to-sky territory. One had no idea where one's body was: it was neither hell nor heaven, even though One had never been there, yet you could smell the sense of assuredness. One was alone. There was no one around. The silence was delightful. One gave a quick look at the place trying to find a chair to sit on but could find none. Then One sat on the 'floor' which turned out to be a transparent surface; looking through it One could see nothing. Even if you have everything crystal clear in front of you, you can see nothing. 'Funny, isn't it?' One thought. 'Oh, God, or whoever runs this place, may I know the name of this hell-heaven? Oh, you know what? Forget it. I'll call it hellen. Welcome to Hellen! The number of citizens is One.'

One was sinking in an immediate desire to write something but there wasn't a pen or a sheet of paper. An impulsive decision was to try out the surface. As One's finger carefully touched it, a black spot formed around his finger tip as if it were ink. The 'floor' happened to be some kind of an endless sheet of paper, but no corrections could be made, only crossing-outs. The work began. One had been writing like a mad till sleep crawled towards the body.

'I can write whatever I want! Finally my mind has a chance of avoiding the explosion. My mind is worth being saved.' It was the first thought in the morning. 'As I'm here alone, I may not even bother talking, my vocal chords should be grateful. My way of talking will be thinking.' It was the second thought. One began writing once again, yet the phrases made no sense:

'Mainly the man mastered the map, but beheld the branch that he wanted to break. The branch was like a big brick barrier that could be barely broken.' Seeing all the ‘brilliant’ words written right above all the people on One's ex-planet was marvelous. One couldn't be happier. It was a pure demonstration of magnificent complacency.

Several days later One wrote some more lines: 'Lust lusted for love. As victory lusted for a victor. As a man lusted for a mistress. As a human lusted for humanity'. Another wave of self-satisfaction with a hint of sadness. The ideas were becoming more and more basic. One was furious with oneself but understood that inspiration was blowing off.

Having looked at everything written on the surface, One was caught in an unpleasing amazement. 'So.Many.Words.No.Good.Ones.I.Am.Not.A.Good.One.' A horrible horror was holding One. Eyes closed. A deep breath. Eyes opened. Relief. Shock. Panic. Stupor. Thousands of words had been living on the surface, now there were only three letters composed of the rest. Those three letters stood for YOU. One could do nothing but stare at those letters which were magically regrouping into ARE. 'You are...? I am...? What am I...?'. The answer was ready: NO ONE.

One became No One. 'No! You are wrong!' The eyes were full with torturing tears as being eager to tear One apart. Desperation covered the thoughts and the words formed a black lace around the mouth, hands and feet. One was tightly tied with the once beloved words. One tried to scream but there was no sound produced. The vocal chords were so grateful for the rest that had forgotten how to work. One took a deep breath to make a scream-attempt once again but felt something like water filling up his lungs, too much water. Almost breathless. 'Close your eyes' An inner voice woke up. One obeyed, closed the eyes and felt ice-cold water all over him and inside him. The body was moving instinctively and in several seconds One could breathe. One was right in that place where One drowned. It was night and there was no soul around. One swam to the bank, sat on the bench and was trying to get back to reality of the life: One was No One in the city and One was None in Hellen.


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