I formulate the fold with my eyes closed. I always do.
For one brief moment, six milion souls aboard the colony foldship Agamemnon rely on my skill for their safety. I call our destination to mind, visualising it in detail until the calculation clicks into place and for an instant the Universe makes sense.
The White of our journey 'between' surrounds and consumes us.
Something is wrong... I hear voices? No, there is only...
Silence.
I am alone... I twist and turn in a dark well, my senses dulled though I know not how. No sight, nor sound; no touch, scent or taste breaks the black shroud that envelops me. I am alone and in a void.
My body reacts to a pressure against my skin. I feel as though I am pushed face down in a bed of hot, dry sand. A light wind brushes over me and the sound of billions of tiny grains rubbing against each other in the breeze confirms my fears.
I turn over and my fragile mind screams in terror at the blasted, desolate wasteland and the endless white sand dunes rolling away to the horizon where they meet the reddend sky.
The glowering sun pins my tormented body in place with its hot glare. Its angry, red gaze is the eye of Balor, bringing death to all who meet it, all who dwell here...
...all except One.
I climb to my feet and run weeping 'til I can run no further. In a panic I slow to a walk and make my way across the dunes until I can only crawl; now I crawl until exhaustion defeats me and I slump, once again, face down in the sands.
I cry out, pray and beg, calling on the mercy of Slayer to protect me but the name is a curse punished by the intense heat of the sun, which brightens in anger then dims. The wind stills and there is only...
Silence.
I seek refuge in my mind, formulating endlessly, calling calculation after calculation from my memory, trusting my skill as others always have. Each calculation offers my flux-filled soul to the Universe and asks for simple respite in return but the Universe does not answer and in my mind, my formulations fail in the face of such enduring...
Silence.
I hear the sands shifting nearby and turn to see a figure rising up from the dunes and being formed from countless grains. My heart beats double time as I cower like a mongrel dog, grovelling at the feet of Rage Incarnate. The shifting sands take form and from those grains His face is conjured.
It is a familiar face, the face of fear, the face of the void. I whisper his name, the name of blasphemy and he reaches out for my soul. I know no more fear; I know no more pain, for there is only...
Silence.
As ye have sown so shall ye reap. The harvest begins.
This was an entry for the horror comp. For more information check out here