It had been another shitty, drizzly, day in Durham; County Durham, England, United Kingdom, Earth, The Solar System, The Milky Way, Universe: 23723101-58008923.

But, on a more local scale, today was going alright, i'd had been working on my dissertation all morning and early afternoon, the final months of university were bringing my dissertation deadline looming ever closer. But plant species of the ancient woodland while interesting wasn’t exactly riveting stuff, and i reeeeeeeeeally needed a break. So now I was returning from an impromptu trip to Oxfam to dig around for odds and ends, with a surprisingly good turnout.

I’d managed to net a decent haul. I had three Observer’s Books; trees, fungi and weather, a 12thedition of Arthur Holmes’, Principles of Physical Geology and a commemorative Royal Armouries coin. Surprising, given that there were usually only one or 2 items at most per visit that struck my fancy, but I guess today was just lucky.

This kind of second hand tat collection was the sort of thing that came about from having inherited my mam’s hoarder mentality, inevitably growing as an urge to the point where i'd started paying money for things that other people didn’t even want anymore. But eh, it’s for charity.

I idled along, not in any particular rush and enjoying the coolness of the rain compared to the heated interior of my hoodie. The straps of my backpack shifted on my shoulders, creaking slightly with the weight of my well gotten gains.

The plan was to hit up Tesco’s on the way past to grab some crap I can just stick in the oven before heading upstairs to look everything over again. Then allocate them to their new places on one of the shelves in my room, AKA look for space. Then have dinner and read/play something, have a drink and chat with my housemates then go to bed for 10-11ish. Sleep had been alluding me of late so I was trying to get to bed earlier. I'd only recently gotten into this strange practice of giving a shit about my health, at 21 years old... Better late than never ay?

The hood pulled down to keep the mist like rain out of my eyes, once again cursing at the English drizzle. Busy grumbling as any true Brit will about our big, wet, island meant that I failed to notice the rapid approach of the curb, until i noticed a sudden lack of ground, where it was meant to be, under my feet.

Hood flipping up as I fell toward the road, now unobstructed, there was a clear view of the car about to turn me into jam, an ancient woman sat behind the wheel, her gnarled visage puckering in fear. Her eyes so tightly shut, the old bird probably counted as asleep at the bloody wheel by the time she ploughed into me, a dull thud marking the beginning of my ascent through the air.

Reaching my zenith after about 0.2 seconds, my body collided with a neighbouring building, though unsurprisingly I failed to notice. What remained, slid bonelessly to the the ground roughly ten metres away from the initial site, though “boneless” is innacurate, I still had them all... they were just in smaller pieces.

Always a silver lining. Eh?

………………..

Some lingering stereotype meant that when I woke up seeing an older, bespectacled man the first thoughts that sprang to mind was heavily media influenced...they would be a doctor about to tell me that I’d never walk again or “It was a success!!! You’re a woman now!!!”. Or maybe even a… “Now that the surgery is complete, that goody goody Hernandez will never realise that you are actually…

ESTEBAN JULIO RICARDO MONTOYA DE LA ROSA RAMÍREZ!!!

RIGHTFUL HEIR TO YOUR FATHER’S MULTI-MILLION DOLLAR MALE MODEL BUSINESS EMPIRE!!!”

While I was distracted word vomiting all over the inside of my skull, said bespectacled man had been growing progressively redder and a stark vein had begun to appear on his forehead like some kind of fat aggressive millipede squirming below the skin. Which is actually what pulled my revery, now zeroing in the specimen, I had never seen such a distinctly purple millipede like vein…

“SHUT UP!!!!!!!

SHUT UP

SHUT UP

SHUT UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Somewhat suprised my the sudden aggresion, i hesitantly spoke.

…“You ok there mate? You look like your're about to blow a fuse?” Confusion colouring my words.

“It’s you I’m talking about YOU!!! You inane, gibbering ape, you’ve managed to lay there for three and a half minutes yammering incessantly about telenovela plots as opposed to asking where you are, who I am, how you’re still alive? Any of these, ring a bell?” The man said panting with his earlier exertion but still able to clearly convey his annoyance.

I realised I may have been speaking out loud the entire time but still chose to look around to see if there were any nurses I could get to call the doctor (?) a douchebag for screaming at his patients. In doing so however I became aware of my current position, definitely not a hospital by the way, I was laying in what appeared to be the shade of a tree, oak, on the apex of a grassy hill which, at its base, terminated in a solid sheet of night. The obsidian plain stretched to the horizon beneath an empty, grey, twilight sky populated by no sun or moon only exuding the persistent stale, cloying light of a dying world to see by.

Like an island in the void or the last icecap rising above a sea of oil, it was impossible to tell, even before standing up with a surprising amount of ease from the bed, how deep, or even just what it was? Hurriedly stumbling down toward the edge of the island and peering over the edge as if looking for my reflection I was met only by the portion of ‘Cthulhu’s Colour Wheel for Kids TM!’ labelled as Existential Dread.

Behind me I began to hear the sick wheeze of the man I was now at least 70-80% sure wasn’t my doctor… at which point, turning around and standing up, I also noticed that he was meant to be laughing. While standing i took note that I still had my clothes and bag which, upon flipping it open, still had everything from the haul. I noted that the bed i was sure i woke up on, however, was now gone.

Seeing my expression of confusion, he elaborated, “I can never get the laugh right compacting myself down into such a small space. How I’m supposed to exhale the right amount while simultaneously opening and closing the breathing tube in the right rhythm, I don’t know. Close enough.”

*Sigh*

“Moving on, it’s nice to get a proper reaction out of you finally, I see it as one of the main side benefits whenever I do one of these and finding your lack of surprise irksome, that’s much better. All confused and bewildered, almost cute. Anyway, finally getting around to the answers to the questions that you should have asked in the first place, you are currently in the void between realms…”

“OOOOOOooooooooooo spooky” ... my attempt at levity was not appreciated, maybe it was because my delivery was flat, althoughin fairness i was still recovering from A: a car crash and B: being called cute. Fat, hairy, Northmen not being used to the use of such a term to describe them.

With a stiff gaze he continued, “Ahem… I personally have gone by many names, The Sojourner, Terror, The Eye Beyond the Crack, Mr Multi-Universe, The Vast, Douglas Montgomery and many others. How you came to survive your accident however is far simpler to answer, you didn’t.”

“While that was clear, and useful as a fucking custard window, I may require more than that as far as explanations go. Also, Douglas?” I questioned, with the strangest mix of fear, confusion, anger, indignation and sheer laughable lunacy, i'd ever experienced.

“It means ‘black stream’...” He mumbled.

“O…k…. that makes more sense I guess?”

“I see I wasn’t clear enough during the initial explanation and this is going nowhere without ht e decency of even doing it quickly so i shall elaborate. Do not worry I shall swiftly rectify my oversight.” The now condescending tone carried an unpleasantly sinister under-current.

Which was then heavily reinforced when he, or Douglas, casually walked to the edge of the island and then stepped off disappeared without a ripple into the pitch black below. Several seconds of silence followed during which I thought I made a guy kill himself by making fun of his name. This comparatively sweet dream was quickly ripped away by a crippling detonation of sound as the ocean of ink surrounding the island suddenly erupted into the air and kept rising as an ever-growing stygian cylinder, wholly enclosing the island.

The walls grew to a height that pierced the cloudless skies and left only a small dim dot to gaze up at. It was at this point however that the reeeeheeheeeeeeeally freaky shit started happening. At the shore, the previously solid wall began to bulge and writhe till it erupted into a great tentacled visage, this then grew to encompass whichever wall Josh turned to face.

It was times like this I was happy i pissed before leaving the house.