That’s odd, he thought, wriggling his fingers.

He had awoken to a world containing nothing but an infinite space of brilliant whiteness.  He was literally the centre of his universe which moved and existed around his central point.

He couldn’t remember anything else, but felt instinctively that this was not how the world was supposed be, and that he was somewhere other than where he should be.

All around him the air seemed to be moving.  Clouds wafted, changing shape as the gentle currents tugged at their insubstantial forms, reflecting the warm light that touched everything.

He existed in all directions.  He could see all around himself, without moving.  Adrenalin coursed through his bloodstream and he realised that he was in fact spinning like an arrow.  He raised his arms in a V, allowed the euphoria to flood him mind, body and soul.

That’s when the darkness began to encroach.  It began on the edges of his infinite spherical horizon and collapsed inward towards him slowly at first but gaining momentum  as it closed the distance.

Finnvard stopped his spin instantly, in the grips of a paralysing fear, heart pulsing, hair standing on end, deep within him was the physical but no less certain knowledge that this was death.  Complete and utter finality.  The cessation of being in any way alive.


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