Author: The Magician Joseph PM
A short story, based on contemplations, based on life.Rated: Fiction K - English - Words: 589 - Reviews: 4 - Published: 01-19-07 - Status: Complete - id: 2306834
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The sun crept over the horizon kissing the wind swept field with lips of dusk.
Two boys, or rather young men sat on the hood of an old rusty Mustang staring at the approaching evening.
The day had been pleasant, not extraordinary, no exciting just pleasant. They had spent the day trying to coax the Mustang into higher speeds to tear through the fields at.
One boy took out a pilfered cigar, and handed it to the other, and then took one fro himself. The boys lit their cigars protecting the light against the wind.
"I think this is why we live, like this when things just feel right." One of them said, his name was Roger. "There just has to be something bigger out there, I think at times like this we're in tune with that something."
The other boy Gerald responded, most of Roger's other friend's didn't enjoy when Roger played the "middle-class philosopher", but Gerald didn't mind. "It's kinda mind-blowing when you think of how big things out there really are."
Roger who was now reclining on the hood of his Mustang, "Yeah man we just wander about like insects crawling along, added, selfish. Most people don't even touch a semblance of meaning in life."
"I think that is their fault," Gerald said, "I think we have to create meaning for our lives, when you think of how small we really are… I don't know I guess we just have to make ourselves important to ourselves. There is nothing we really can do to make our memory stand the test of time; we're bound to die eventually. Ashes to ashes.
Like you were saying earlier, we're just insects in the big scheme of things; I think everything is just an insect in the big scheme of things. I think that there will be a time when even the horrors of such things as the Holocaust are forgotten and then repeated.
Probably things we can't even imagine are happening right now, reality is objective, time, and space are just lies." Gerald finished is cigar and threw the filter into the grass; he looked down and scratched a bit of rust of Roger's car.
"Suppose that there is just this really big nothing." Roger continued, "That surrounds all these 'somethings', every world, every idea is held by a big black hole outside, a void. A void that we're just getting ready to step into, something may go on forever, but outside of forever there is nothing. Wouldn't that make everything pointless, but I guess we only have as much meaning as we give ourselves."
The wind caressed them, it picked up, and suddenly there was a tiredness about the two, as if the day was getting ready to close like a book.
"Oblivion." Gerald said propping himself up on his elbows.
"Oblivion, that big nothing is called Oblivion. This something that we're 'tuning into' right now, this Big something, as you said Oblivion is bigger. Everything is a march to Oblivion" Roger stated, the reflections of the sky dancing along inside his eyes.
"Might as well make it a pleasant march." Gerald said quietly, his voice penetrating the now still air.
Then the boys looked up in the sky, and they saw Oblivion gaping about them, yawning blackness ever hungry. And they were scared; they wished for the stability of something familiar to help them forget.
Oblivion ever patient waited.