The Mountain of Fiction.

Captain Zappa

“On the night that they took her away from everything she knew, she experienced a nightmare that made tears slip through her closed eyes.”

Blackness. A heartbeat. Cold open to a pair of crystal blue eyes frozen in a stare, then jolt from left to right in a panic. A cry for distress into air that echoes back at her – white-knuckled fingers dug into a patch of soil like sword to stone. Then, a body dangling mercilessly. Below? Nothingness.

“In the realm of her slumber, she could see the indentations her nails etched into the ground in her futile attempt of remaining on the steady ground of the mountain. Below her dangling feet was an abyss that symbolized the inevitable chaos that her life would potentially mirror. The only thing she ever wanted was to be able to pilot her purpose in such a way that brought resolution to a ultimately failing civilization. The only thing that she could sense in her nightmare was the realization that this was an impossible feat. In this nightmare, she told herself that every footprint of progression in her life would be hidden within the crevice of a footprint previously created before her.”

She rests her knees against the rigid skeletal structure of what now looks to be the ledge of a mountain. She’s all alone – and seemingly fighting for her life. The nothingness below seems to take on an extravagant forms by shadows, swirling like a relentless wormhole into a new dimension. She looks down, after hearing the whooshing sounds of her imminent fate, and then frantically begins to use her knees to reach the surface of the ledge.

“This nightmare was recurring – as was the destabilization of her people. All they wanted was to conquer the obstacles that lay before them in order to successfully ascend, but there was always a ceiling that prevented them from reaching the desired echelon. The disgust that boiled in the depths of her soul when she realized that each attempt was met with a frayed end – it all became too much to continuously bare witness to.”

She pulls her weight upon on the ledge. Once her knees are planted against, she rests – taking in and letting out breaths as heavy as the ocean itself. As she gets to her feet, she hears the whooshing sound from the wormhole. This immediately alerts her enough to know that she must evade. Unfortunately, she’s not quick enough. The suction of the wormhole takes her legs out from under her and she begins to slide back to the edge of the ledge – screaming helplessly into an atmosphere that plays audience to her trials and tribulations.

“When they took you away, it was meant to be the next chapter to your purpose. You were finally presented with the idea of escaping the chains that bind you in order to fight for your cause. Then again, Starchild, you and I both know that you were well aware of how the facts were displayed at the surface of it all. Instead of this recurring dream of deconstruction, you were now on the verge of seeing the entire abyss paint itself into reality.

Once again, she holds on for dear life – this time, with just one hand. A bead of sweat drops away from her forehead, and the wormhole consumes it. Somewhat willing to accept her fate, she hears shuffling above her. When she looks up, all she’s able to make out are silhouettes from the intensity of the sun. It had to be SOAR – they were to here to protect her. They were here to get her out of this predicament. This inspired her to latch back onto the edge with her other hand, dangle for a few minutes, and then begin to climb her way back up once more.

“You always questioned what brought the abyss to you, why there was a ceiling that blocked you from rising to the occasion. Deep down, you always wondered why you always had a permanent second-place position in life and beyond. That was, until you discovered The Chosen One. Your agenda was, and has always been, to see what lies behind your recurring nightmare. Guess what? You found us, and I’m here to give you some bad news, man. We aren’t going anywhere. You can’t steer away from the entity that has enough power to move the chess pieces within your mind the way that I please. All you can do is sit back, be quiet, and watch how this game ends.”

She finally makes it to the surface again – huffing and puffing – using the rest of her might to roll herself onto the safety zone. She keeps her eyes closed, ultimately relieved by the dramatic turn of events. She rolls back over, gets to her feet, and then opens her eye.

This was not SOAR. This wasn’t any chapter of the Vallyrian Guard. These were Zeta – their arms crossed with expressions of vengeful intent. She could do nothing but stand there – frozen – her mouth wide open at the shock. How did they get here? How did they find a ripped air pocket that led into her fortress?

“We could have made this world into something so much more than it is today. Instead, you and yours selfishly wanted it all to yourself. Instead of listening to the abyss all this time and paying attention to how it felt hanging from that mountain, you chose to move forward and argue with fate. I held your hand, prevented you from plummeting because I’m a good guy. I know, however, that we all want what we want.

Not this time, Starchild.”

She tried to defend herself by sliding one of the intergalactic weapons from its holster. She points it at – noting. The Zeta are gone. She points the gun in several directions, frantically trying to smoke someone – or something out – until she gives up. Where did they go – and that quickly? She turns toward the edge, where the abyss is. She brings her gun down and walks to the edge. Except, there is no abyss. There is no race from devastation to reunite. They don’t exist.

It’s silent, as she looks down the edge – a fatal mistake. The Zeta reappear behind her. Before she’s able to take notice, they simply shove her off of the ledge. She tries to veer away, but there’s too much force. She begins to fall directly into the pool of obscurity below.

Not this time.