The Void: Chapter Only

Theodora crept into the void, squinting into the darkness and letting her fingers brush against a firm wall. She had to be here. All the clues had led to this place, and it actually seemed like a stereotypical lair from the outside. Inside, well, she couldn’t tell. Dark as evil hideouts were supposed to be, this level of pitch-black was ridiculous. Theodora had a flashlight, but it was a pathetic little keychain light that hadn’t been in working condition when she had received it. It was a lovely shade of blue though.

Following the wall, she slowly crept forward, trying to adjust her eyes to the lack of light, when her hand hit empty air; the wall had ended. She warbled and uttered a curse word as she nearly lost her balance. Fumbling backwards, she found where the wall had ended, or rather, turned at a ninety-degree angle. She exhaled through her nostrils and began to walk the new direction.

There was a noise of shuffling from an indeterminable direction. Theodora paused and scanned the room in vain. Giving up within the minute, she started down the new path cautiously. Maybe it had just been a rat? The wall continued much the same way, and eventually the young woman knew when to expect the change in direction. It always turned the same way, as if spiralling deeper and deeper into an incredibly easy maze.

Rounding yet another corner, a dim light became visible. It was still rather dark, but Theodora could make out vague outlines now. Rounding another, the weak light grew brighter, and she heard a voice. It was a familiar one.

“Jack.” she whispered, now increasing her pace. The voice replied with a faint cry. “Jack.” Theodora began to race along the wall, becoming slightly dizzy as she spiralled in, the walls becoming shorter. It did continue to grow brighter, but Theodora barely noticed her now visible surroundings. She only cared about her precious Jack. He had to be okay. She was going to rescue him, and he was going to be fine.

Theodora fell to the ground and clutched her ankles. Something had hi—THWAP! Her back this time! She quickly scooted out of the way as she heard it coming again, and (THWOP!) it hit the floor. She gaped up at the attacker, an aging man with a walking stick and sunglasses. It wasn’t bright.

“Why’re you wearing--?” she began

“I’m blind.” he replied gruffly, still holding his stick as if he might use it as a weapon, “Why are you trespassing in my home?”

“I… I’m trying to find Jack. He’s here! I recognize his voice!” she looked up at the man tearfully. “I want to know what’s happened to him.”

“You know Jack?” the man said, pausing before he continued. “Alright, alright. I suppose if you’ve come all this way…” He set his stick down and rested a hand on it, offering his other to Theodora. The girl managed to get up with minimal assistance, and the man let go of her hand, leading the way to Jack.

A few corners later, they came to a small well-lit room with a couch, table, a couple chairs, cabinets, and a cat.

“Jack!” Theodora exclaimed, running up to the cat. Jack leapt into her arms, purring and gently licking the girl.

“He likes to come over for tea.” the man explained, “Only it’s been so cold outside lately that I thought he might stay here for a bit.”

“I’ve been so worried about him!”

“I imagine you have. Good cat, Jack.” he took off his sunglasses, only there to make him look intimidating in the first place, and revealed a weary, melancholy expression. “I suppose you can take him back home now… Unless you’d like to stay for tea?”

“Oh, no.” Theodora replied, delighted in the recovery of her cat, “We couldn’t possibly impose! Come now, Jack! Let’s go. Thank you so much for taking care of him.” And with that last statement, the girl walked away, cradling Jack in her arms.

The man gazed at his stick in contemplation, and then threw it to the ground. Violence wouldn’t solve anything. He dumped the saucer of steeping tea onto the ground. The woman wouldn’t be back, and Jack would be locked up, unable to return.

“God bless ’em both.” he muttered, his face wrenched in an expression of pain. He poured himself a cup of tea and took a seat. He rested his head in his hands, sighing, “Another Christmas alone.”