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EVE Fiction

 
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Submission: YC 117 New Eden Capsuleer's Writing Contest
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Karina Ivanovich
Republic Military School
Minmatar Republic
#1 - 2016-06-09 05:15:18 UTC
Dichotomy of One: Prologue


She was the only one in the world. So she was always alone. For as long as she could remember it had been this way. She lived on an island in the middle of a lake. There was land on the other side, but she could not swim. She had never left the island. It had everything she needed.

She lived in a large building made of stone. It had high walls that blocked out the sun. But on one side it had windows. Through the windows she could see the whole world. The building had a large basement stocked with food. At first she did not go down to look because she was scared. But she got hungry. She was small, so the food was enough to last forever. And so she never thought of leaving the world. She was the only thing of the world. She had been at the island forever. She could not remember a time before. The building was large and held many rooms. She would explore the rooms every day. They were always new to her, but they never changed. There were rooms filled with books. Other rooms had places to sleep or write. She went to every room in the building. Out of all the rooms one was her favorite. This room was empty. There was nothing on the walls. The floor was the same as any other room. But this room was different.

The room she loved the most was not a room. It had many doors, but it lacked substance. This room was tall and narrow. It was also very long. She was frightened by the room, but she could not stay away. This room had windows. They were tall and narrow, like the room, barely even there. She would gaze out of the windows for hours. She would watch the world. She was god. One day she decided to read a book from the large room in the building. She did not know about books, but she could read. The room had many books of different sizes. None of the books had any pictures. She found that they told stories of another place. They were books about ‘people’. She did not understand what ‘people’ were. The books confused her.

The island was large. It takes days to walk from one end to the other. But she could always see the shore. It was never cold. She shivered at night. It was never hot. She had a fever. Occasionally it would rain. Most of the time she avoided the rain. Several times she would stare up into the rain and wonder where it came from. There was no sky. But the space had color.

There were trees on the island. They grew in small groves near the water. They grew tall in places. The building was taller though, since it was on a hill. Grass grew on the island as well. But she noticed most of it was rocky. She liked to explore the island because it was the whole world. But she preferred the rooms in the building. The building was not beautiful. It was a thing of beauty. One of the rooms was full of paper. She learned that it also had charcoal. She learned to draw. She drew the whole world. She also drew the building and its rooms. She never ran out of paper. At first she could not draw well. The drawings were ugly or did not makes sense. She loved those drawings. She did not like them. Later, as her skills improved, she liked them better.

She would do the same thing every day. Every day was different. There were always new rooms. The world never changed, but was never the same. She ate food every day. She never wanted more. She was hungry. She read books again. They still did not make sense, she read them anyway. Thousands of books. She would never read all of the books in the room however. She never read the same book twice, unless she wanted to. She never wanted anything. She would read the same book over and over. She found the books beautiful but difficult. In them ‘people’ talked. She did not know what this was. She listened to herself. She never spoke a word.

Some call me insane. If the universe is sane, then I embrace that label.
Karina Ivanovich
Republic Military School
Minmatar Republic
#2 - 2016-06-09 05:15:27 UTC  |  Edited by: Karina Ivanovich
One room had a table in the corner. This table was not square. It had two legs in the front and one in the back. She did not know what the table was. It had one chair, without a back. She went to the table one day and sat down. She looked all around the table. She saw nothing interesting about it so the left. The table had strings inside. The strings never moved. She did not see them. She loved to dance. She had nothing to dance to. She would spin and peruiet without effort. Without form. She would jump and dance while exploring the building. She lacked experience. She had nothing to learn. She was the only dancer of the world.

She wore a pure white dress. It was clean and beautiful. At night the dress was black. Sometimes it was grey. Her cloths were never dirty. She never washed her cloths. She bathed daily. She was clean. She was sick. She never got tired, but she would go to sleep. She loved the night. She rarely stayed up late. Darkness was peaceful. Darkness was light. She had always been alone. She was the only one in the world. She was not lonely. She was not loved, yet she loved. She was not hated. She could feel hatred. She discovered a cave near the edge of the shoreline while walking. The entrance was narrow and hard to fit through. She tore her dress on the way in. It did not need mending.

One day a new room appeared. The room had always been there. She discovered the room when she ran away from the rain. In this room there was nothing. In this room she saw something she had never seen before. It was about as tall as she was. It had hands like hers. It had legs like her. It even wore the same dress as her. The only difference was that it wore a black bow. She froze mid stride. She was still as a statue. She quivered all over. It had a terrible appearance. She did not know what it was. It had a mouth like hers. The mouth was full of teeth. She could not look it in the eyes. She was afraid of what it would do. She ran away. It ran away. All that remained was a single black bow pinned to the wall.

For a long time she did not go to any of the rooms. She forced herself to explore the island. The place that never changed was changed by her presence. She did not notice. The effort just to stay away from the building was taking all of her willpower. She knew it was important. So for a while she endured. And then it began to rain. She was trapped. There was a monster inside the building. But here was a storm outside. She was terrified to make a choice. She made a choice. She embraced the monster rather than get lost in the storm. When it rained she forgot the island. But she always remembered the building with the changing rooms. The building never changed. It was always safe. There was a monster inside. When she returned the monster was gone. She had turned the lights out to conceal it. It was still in the room. She locked that door. It did not matter. She decided to forget the monster. The room disappeared. The room was still there. The room would never leave. The monster was inside.

She read a book that was not about ‘people.’ It was bout an idea. She found this strange since all the other books were about ‘people.’ The idea the book talked about was loneliness. She did not understand loneliness. She had never been alone, so she could not feel alone. She had always been lone. The book began talking about ‘people.’ She realized it was just like all the other books. She read it anyway.

She had never thought why she was on the island, for she had always been there. She did not wonder why she was afraid of the rain. She had always been. She did not wonder why she was alone. She was not alone. She was the only one of the world. She was never happy. She had never been sad. She was never frustrated. She had never been content. She was not confident. She had felt fear. She was never at peace. She was always peaceful. She had felt turmoil. She was not dead. She had never been alive. She was the only one in the world. So she was alone. She stood at the edge of the shoreline. She looked to the lake beyond. She saw the place the world stopped. There was land beyond that point; another distant shoreline. But that did not exist. There was only the island in the small lake. There was only the building with its rooms. The lake was endless. It had an end.

Some call me insane. If the universe is sane, then I embrace that label.
Karina Ivanovich
Republic Military School
Minmatar Republic
#3 - 2016-06-09 05:19:51 UTC  |  Edited by: Karina Ivanovich
She never got bored. There was always something for her to do. She was never anticipating an outcome. Every time was different. Every day was the same. There was never and ending. There was always an end. There was no laughter. There were no tears. There was never any sadness. Sometimes it would rain. She loved to do nothing. She was always doing something. She would stare out the windows all day. She observed the world. She was always still. She was always running. She began to draw the world again. These drawings were different. In these drawings something was wrong. The drawings were imperfect. They did not look like the world. They lied, if only a little.

She also loved to look at the lake. She would stare at the waves. They filled her entire view. They ceased to exist. At times she would collect stones from the shore. Large piles of stones would cover the entire shoreline. But the piles would never last. Eventually the world moved on. The world never changed. She was always changing the world. She was always changing. She stayed the same.

She read a book about philosophy. The book talked about how ‘people’ think. It said why ‘people’ think. This book bored her. The book fascinated her. She did not know what to think. She thought. She was not a ‘people.’ She did not wonder why she thought the things she did, for she had always thought these things. The concepts of freedom and perspective or change made no sense to her. She had always been. There was nothing to be free of. She had always been lone. The only perspective of the world was hers. She had nothing to accept. There was nothing to change. Everything always was changing. Nothing was different. Nothing was the same.

She noticed the difference between the world and her drawings. The world was. The drawings were of the world. They were not the world. They were beautiful. They were ugly. They were lies. She drew more often. She drew until she had drawn the entire world hundreds of times. Every picture looked more different than the last. They were utter failures. They were mediocrity. They were decent. They were remarkable. They were. The drawings did not exist. She walked the entire world. She walked it many times. She made note of every stone, tree, and leaf. She noticed everything, but everything was beneath notice. She longed to be out among the world. Then, once she was there, she only wanted to run back to the building with its rooms. She wanted adventure. She always stayed safe. She needed attention. She hid from everything. Silence was her greatest enemy. She loved the quiet. She never spoke a word.

She never feared her end, for time did not exist. She was solitary in her musings. She gained insight from a multitude.

She spent her time alone, for she was the only one of the world. Yet she was never lonely. She always had others. She made friends from the books she read. She spoke to them in dreams at night. She was always without friends. She made them up instead. She never said a word. She did not know how to speak. She held full conversations. There was no one there to hear.

Category: Fiction

Submission Type: Poetry/Prose

Hope you like it.



Disclaimer: I am the original artist and this work is under copyright.

(((Original Piece Link))) Devientart

Some call me insane. If the universe is sane, then I embrace that label.