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P. 24

THE VOID

                                                          Robert Bieschke

    "Am I on the guest list?" asked a few attain. His credibility had final-
    short, shrewd man clad in a suit too ly added up tonight. Tonight was
    big for his frame, but overlooked the night he would dream about for
    because of its designer label.
                                             the rest of his life. He pushed aside
    "You are indeed," the man at the the silky black curtains that were
    door stated with a fervent yet pleas- draped behind the doorman and
    ing intent in his eyes. He looked preceded into what can only be de-
    famished; his skin was stretched scribed as fantastically phantasmal.
    tightly over his skeleton, as if his It was dark, the kind of dark that
    bones were mountains protruding sucks the air out of your lungs, in-
    from the surface of a dying planet. hibiting your movement, your sight,
    The short man gave the doorman a and your balance, except that this
    smug, "I knew I was on it" smile, dark was very much alive, it was
    adjusted his tie with the manner of fluid. The black of darkness sepa-
    a dignitary, slicked back his golden rated itself into shades of gray and
    curls that Narcissus himself would while all color was absent,the vari-
    envy and hurried inside with such ous hues of black became a flowing
    eagerness that he nearly toppled the river of color.
    doorman to the ground. Of course
                                             Everywhere silhouettes ap-
    he was on the list, anyone who's peared each one a shadow and each
    anyone was on this list, why did he one exceptionally animate. There
    even have to ask? A wealthy law- was no light to be found, yet ev-
    yer such as himself who had rep- eryone and everything glowed as
    resented the rich and famous, the if charged with an unseen energy.
    politically elite, the morally influen-
    tial, and the morally bankrupt was       The short man rigorously rubbed
    bound to be on the list.                 his eyes, blinking a few times and
                                             then glancing down at his own
    The short man had lived his life hands. He had become one with
    as one who seizes every opportu- the blackness-the blackest black
    nity to make a name for himself, to he had observed-a sub category of
    live the life that many want and that the dark, but alive in every way. It

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