in her eyes he sees galaxies of fragments of time and space, breaking apart and falling like countless dying stars, a roaring wave rushing headlong into him. they take him with them, into the swirling, seething mass of clouds, into the gaping maw, where everything collapses under the weight of itself, and light is pulled in a million different directions, screaming its agony. in the blue-white blaze of its death throes, the pieces crash into one and another, heedlessly, renting and smearing and splattering and melding, liquid madness. the clouds themselves cave in, the circle is shattered, and spinning wilder than ever, spinning, spinning, the stars being sucked in and devoured. in the center, she is laughing, hands outstretched, embracing the spiral that is drawn inexplicably to her, in the eye of the storm she is whole.

in that eternity of a second he sees, sees this repeated in her eyes and in the eyes of the woman in the eye of the storm in her eyes, the the eyes of that woman in the eye of the storm in her eyes and in hers in her eyes in her eyes inhereyesinhereyes-

He falls.

Run, little boy, and never look back.

 

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