Supreme Emptiness Novels & Stories

Nova felt cold. Not physically. Existentially. This wasn't an empty room. This wasn't a dark space. This was the absence of everything. The Void's voice echoed softly. "This was all there was." Silence followed. Endless silence. Nova looked around. Nothing existed. Nothing had ever existed. No stars. No worlds. No life. No possibilities. Only emptiness. Then a tiny light appeared. Far away. Small. Fragile. Origin. The memory-Origin drifted through the endless void.

For every deliberate, disciplined act of suppression and survival and careful, careful choosing. I let all of it be as large as it was. And when it was finished, I pressed my coat sleeve against my face and breathed out long and slow and sat in the dark second hour of the road north and felt scraped clean. Not empty. Scraped clean. The specific difference between those two things was important. Empty was hollow. Scraped clean was the state that came before something new had room to grow. Aurora stirred against my shoulder. She did not wake fully. She shifted slightly, resettling, and her hand found mine in the dark without any apparent consciousness of what it was doing, and closed around it

No one says that. Because it is not true. The monitors do not lie. The healers do not lie. And my body does not lie, with its terrible new emptiness that is nothing like the emptiness of before, the before when I did not know what it was to carry something and then have it taken. This emptiness has shape. It is the exact size and weight of what is gone. It was never going to be accepted.

Elijah was staring blankly at his phone, murmuring, "It's impossible. There's no way. It's got to be a lie. It's all just a lie." Suddenly, he spat out a mouthful of blood, while all the color seemed to have drained from his face. Everyone screamed, and a traditional medicine doctor quickly came forward to check his pulse. "He's having an emotional breakdown. It seems like he's suffering from extreme grief—" Before the doctor finished speaking, Elijah shoved him away and stumbled over to the path back down the mountain. Juliette and a few other colleagues who were close to Elijah quickly went after him. The call he'd received earlier kept repeating itself in his mind.

The Origin-World—the First King’s cold, geometric home—was no longer approaching; it was Overwriting. "The spatial density is reaching critical mass!" Nathaniel screamed over the roar of a wind that sounded like grinding glass. He was strapped into the command chair of the Sun-Spire, his hands a blur across the silver-logic interface. "Emma, this isn't a collision of matter! It’s a collision of Definitions! The Origin-World is defining our space as 'Empty,' and the vacuum is trying to swallow the Heart-Tree whole!"

The process was extraordinarily challenging, requiring the distributed patterns to fragment beyond even their current scattering, to release the structure that made them observable and settle into pure absence. Senna achieved undistribution first, her consciousness releasing its distributed pattern and settling into spaces between states with almost eager acceptance. From her new position as Empty One, she communicated through direct impression rather than crystal pulses. “I am finally free. Not free from violation, that wound remains in my memory pattern. But free from being defined by fragmentation. I exist now as emptiness that chooses itself rather than a pattern forced into existence. T

It was my full account of every trip, every hotel booking, every time Jasper had snuck off with Fiona behind my back over the course of three years. In the very last clip, I smiled at the camera with my son in my arms and said, "Three years of having my love go to waste. I've finally woken up. From this day forward, my son and I have nothing to do with you." When the video ended, there was not a dry eye among the guests. "My God, how desperate must she have been to disappear on the day meant to celebrate her own child?" "Amniotic fluid embolism. She nearly died. And her husband was off traveling the world with his mistress? Is he even human?"

Prologue Emptiness— the feeling of missing something like a deep hole was dug down inside your heart. It will slowly push you to complete oblivion, reeling by morbid darkness that will consume you until all you have left is your own voice to be able to call somebody for help. But is someone willing to take the risk? To let themselves sink by my caged emotions? Imprisoned by an unreal pain that I craved more than a pointless knife piercing me down endlessly. Is someone willing to save me from the monster of my own abnormality?

Despite my fixed gaze on the screen, the room seems to expand around me, the walls of my apartment receding as if to emphasize the growing void within me. My chest tightens, suffocating the air in my lungs, while my heart beats erratically, a painful rhythm echoing in my ears. It feels like a panic attack, yet I recognize it as the stark truth penetrating my consciousness—this is my reality, a future of emptiness. A lavish apartment filled with material wealth but devoid of genuine connection, inhabited by two hollow individuals with hearts echoing with emptiness. Scottie and I epitomize this emptiness, mere shells of existence parading in a facade of success and power. We've inherited a leg

Devan reassured. Sean was tired. Not just physically, but emotionally drained. He wasn’t sure how much more he could deal with. Praying had always been a priority for him, but lately he had found it to be so difficult and he wasn’t sure why. He walked back out to the waiting room and saw the doors to the small Chapel. Difficult or not, he was going to have to try. This was a matter of life or death. He didn’t want to give her up. But something was eating at him. He reached for the door and put his hand on the knob. What was it that had him so hesitant to talk to God lately? He opened the door and there, kneeling at the altar, was Jack, already praying.