The Ink Man roamed about for a time. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, even centuries and he wouldn't know. But seeing as there was nothing to do he explored nothing. The blank land loomed all around.
Until the rain began.
The Ink Man looked above at the vast white sky and noticed tiny black dots to appear. He pondered for a moment, but was then interrupted as the dots grew larger and one struck him.
Though the Ink Man could not feel anything, he was still rather annoyed. As he gazed around him he noticed there were many ugly spots lying about. As far as he could see the dots kept raining down, blacking out the areas in which they landed.
He approached one spot and observed it. The little thing was just like him when he arrived: black, dark, small, but perhaps not ugly because there were other blobs just like it.
Violently, the ground shook beneath him. The Ink Man stumbled and fell upon his bosom. Everywhere a spot had landed they shook in there place.
All together the hundreds of ink blobs shuddered the white land, making it impossible for the Ink Man to get up.
Every time he managed to stand he was just knocked over again from the sheer power in the vibrations. Though the Ink Man had no face to express emotion, you could tell the fear and confusion he was going through. He curled up and cried out, but there was no one to hear his silent cries.
He laid there trembling, waiting for this nightmare to end.
YOU ARE READING
The Ink Man
General FictionIn the beginning there was nothing but white. How boring. Everywhere you looked. Up, down, left, right, forward, back. White as starlight, as a full moon, as the coldest snow. Barren and empty. Then the first ink droplet fell.
