A Flash Fiction Piece in Parts by Matt Maday
I remember our captain saying “art is all about the empty spaces” as a neon galaxy illuminated our ship in prismatic light. The empty spaces in time, space, dimension, virtual vs. physical: the captain could be referring to any or none of these in this era of quantum, interdimensional, intergalactic travel, my captain could have been referring to empty spaces in consciousness, intradimensional, inner travel into the voids in conscious thought that allow for the light of consciousness to permeate the unconscious–
I fell asleep, and the pilot woke me up–he was right to wake me up–I was supposed to be learning from the pilot and our captain how to captain and pilot the ship by myself if need be, a drastic understudy of sorts, commissioned to learn roles he couldn’t possibly fulfill alone; I had to admit, I was sleeping too much to escape from the stress and the stream-of-consciousness-inducing DoeMensional cranial overloader caused my brain to hitch into a restless yet lengthy slumber that broke up my day as well. My thoughts wouldn’t make sense–this is a journal–I’m still alive: made it back–kind of!–guess I will have to explain that later.
So in other words, this is a journal that I’m editing right now about some space and/or time travel or something and trying not to embellish yet trying instead to accurately describe–
THUMP.
There was another one at the window, organic, deadly if they breached the walls of the spaceship. Or bizarrely beautiful, water-colored killer squids in space–THUMP–I wanted to sleep through the whole wave, but I knew that I was the first person who would have to explore if there were any space creatures. I would have to negotiate or neutralize the squid–or choose not to–best to avoid–I was wide awake–the captain was staring out the window, tracing bioluminescent squid movements with his hand in a mournful swimming motion.
Matt Maday 