The Null

A cosmic horror short story (2nd Place - NYC Midnight 500 Word Challenge)

I’d like to share some more original fiction with you this week. This is a story I wrote for the NYC Midnight 500 Word Challenge last year. The prompts I received were Genre: Horror, Object: Firetruck, Action: Racing. This story was awarded second place in its cohort.

While I very rarely write horror, I’m proud of this one. There’s something about the The Null that fits modern days…

In this tale of cosmic horror, a desperate group fleeing the oppressive presence of an otherworldly entity rescues a bystander. While her body is saved, her mind remains irreparably idle.

The Null

The crowd stood and stared. The creature was boundless, impossible to ignore. It came from above—a grotesque, otherworldly shadow, a black hole in the murky silhouette of a giant leech.

Emergency vehicles arrived. First responders stepped from their firetrucks & ambulances, looked up, and froze in awe. I, too, was drawn helplessly toward the towering darkness.

The horror spread. Thick tendrils snapped out violently, painting the world with the absence of all that had been there a moment before. The creature was magnetic, all-consuming nothingness; a deep, gnawing void against the looming gray clouds. It emptied everything it touched. To witness it was vacant stimulation, the warm embrace of thoughtlessness, a desperate soothing comfort.

Careers, families, all sense of having a place in the world disappeared. Years of striving melted away. Desire stood irrelevant next to the beast. There was only unshakable inertia. Each glimpse of its monstrosity reassured the crowd—none of this mattered anymore.

Sirens wound down as the vehicle engines stopped in unison.

Silence.

A low, guttural chant, the sound of an emptying drain, pulsed from deep within the creature’s maw. It spoke a language only the subconscious understood. People around me lay down on the rain-slick pavement.

Then I heard voices. They were unfocused, far off, no matter how close or how loud they grew. Someone grabbed my hand and pulled. I was suddenly aware of my wits unraveling. Parts of me rebelled. I was supposed to meet an old friend. I had to pick up my kids in an hour.

“Look at me,” a stranger’s voice came through clearly. She held a thick, dark green slicker over her head with one arm, shielding her eyes. Balled-up tissues plugged her ears and nostrils.

“Hey! Look at me!” She didn’t take her eyes off the ground as she spoke. Her hands shook.

The group she was with moved through the crowd, grabbing others at random and attempting to pull them away. She tugged my arm again. My legs followed, but I kept my gaze over my shoulder, staring as long as I could.

We raced away on foot. I had no sense of time. The sound of our shoes interrupted the creature’s song. I was pulled.

Footsteps.

Then, we were out of view. We stood in a public park, blocks from where we’d been. A deeper emptiness rushed in. I lost myself.

“You still with us?” the stranger asked.

I had no response.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“I... I don’t think it matters.”

“Where are you from? Who were you with?” she pried.

I shrugged, unconcerned.

The stranger lifted off her raincoat. She finally looked up. She studied my eyes. Another distant voice said, “We gotta keep moving!”

She gave me a last hard look. I felt her squeeze my hand. She said, “I’m sorry.”

I watched her race off again. It didn’t matter. It was nothing. I lay down on the grass. I pressed an ear to the ground to better hear the creature’s numbing rumble.