Creative Writing: The Void

He swam in a dark, bottomless pit for what felt like a thousand years. The void around him was filled with pale illusions, with the remains of memories, of places and things unknown to him. This strange visions crept into his unthinking mind and tormented him. He couldn't think or perceive anything. Anything beyond the illusions and the pain, that is. The pain... it permeated his entire being and came from somewhere... else. He felt the source of this suffering as detached and yet so close. But the void was endless and empty. How could something be near him?

Who was he? What was this strange place he was in? Was this death? Afterlife? But… but what was "death" or "afterlife" exactly? He didn't have the answer to any of those questions. In

Maybe it took seconds but for his shattered mind it felt like centuries. The soft glow became brighter and brighter until it filled the emptiness to the brim. It was hot as a flame, as a star – completely opposite of the coldness that filled the void. The light also felt… powerful and life giving. It destroyed the illusions and cleared the visions out of his mind in an instant. It turned the overwhelming pain into a simple numbness. And then it crept into his mind. But it wasn’t like the illusions. He wasn’t scared of the light. He welcomed it. And then it

He liked it. It sounded new and strange, and yet he felt it closer than any other name that he could read there. Now he had to get used to it. So he repeated it over and over again like some ancient incantation. His raspy voice filled the air.

"Ehrir", he said once more. "Ehrir".

After some time somewhere far north, where the road merged with the horizon, appeared a dark dot. It slowly grew and turned into a group of separate figures. It took some time for Ehrir to see them and even more to recognize that they were caravans. There was nearly a dozen of them, all painted in dark colors. Every one of them was moved by a pair of jet black horses. On top of the leading caravan hanged a flag with a symbol unrecognized by Ehrir.

When the caravans got near him, he slowly got up and rose his hand in the air as if his very presence wasn’t enough for him to be noticed. The caravaneer of the first one in the procession - a middle-aged man, wearing all black clothes and broad-brimmed gray hat - looked straight at him and his mouth twisted into an ugly smile.

"Come on, get in the caravan from the back", he said calmly. "The great Order of Hasthan welcomes