The day began as any other in the human world. The sun rose slowly, turning the sky from an abyss-like navy to a shallow, light blue. Men, women, and children rose from their beds to go about their daily business. But there was a disturbance in the lives of many on this day, a disturbance that was not easily rectified. Grieving families sat hopelessly in hospitals and watched those close to them in an undisturbed sleep.

The day ended as any other in the human world, but still they slept. Or so it seemed.

-~-

There was no day in the spirit world. There was no night. There was only the limitless abyss, so dark and frightening that one might call it darker than black. It was darker, more frightening than anything you were ever able to perceive previously. It was an unearthly darkness, and its perception was not hindered by the limits of a physical body.

Floating here, you think that it is all over and Hell is just a tad bit more boring than you had imagined it to be. But it isn't over. Oh no, it is far from over.

And by the time you're finished here, if you finish here, you might find yourself wishing that it had in fact been over when you first played with that thought.

Welcome to Nadir.


A bell tinkled in a nonexistent wind, and the sound floated across the airless space as if it were carrying an important message. A young woman who appeared to be in her early twenties stood regally in a lightless abyss with raven hair that matched her surroundings quite well cascading down her back. Her head was held high, and her expression skeptical. A small frown played on her full, red lips.

More "corrivals." More unsuspecting, whiny humans were here to muddle up the fragile peace and fancy themselves gods. "Wonderful," she growled, and took a step forward. Her tattered but elegant purple wings were disturbed from their resting place on her back because of the movement. "What are we to do, Nadir, what are we to do?" She sighed, and the bell around her neck tinkled again. "I'll let them wade in their self-inflicted chaos for a while...perhaps they'll be worthy of salvation later."

Then she was gone.

-||||-

"O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!"

Of all the exclamations a man can choose when they awake from slumber to find themselves in an unknown place, Stephen Winter chose this lesser used one that is often only heard...well, not ever heard, really, when a stage is not involved. But, it was with this exclamation that Stephen found himself in a dark abyss, the same abyss that has been described over and over, and will undoubtedly be described over and over again in quite the near future. Around him were others, exclaiming much more appropriate and believable things.

One person near him, a muscled man with short brown hair saw fit to react in this way: "Where the hell are we? What is this Hellhole? One minute I'm in the gym working on my abs and the next I'm...what the HELL?" Stephen, who had been thinking about their current situation rather intently, saw fit to respond with what he had come up with so far.

"Season your admiration for awhile, with an attent ear, till I may deliver, upon the witness of these gentlemen, this marvel to you," He said kindly, and his brown eyes smiled just as much as his mouth.

"And what the hell are you supposed to be?!" The muscled man exclaimed, his confusion doubled sevenfold by this strange, ginger haired young man with a rather heavy English accent. Then he sighed, "Well, go on then. What is it?"

"I daresay we aren't on Earth anymore, sir." Stephen said confidently.

"Oh, so what, we're on Mars?"

"I believe Mars would be...redder. I know not our location, only that it isn't on Earth."

"Oh great, you're such a help. Screw this, I'm going to go look for a way outta here."

"I doubt you'll have any luck!" Stephen called after the quickly receding figure of the man. But it was too late, and Stephen was left to look at the other panicking people surrounding him.

That was when he really got the first good look at his dismal surroundings. There was a forest off in the distance, an inviting beach or two, even an old victorian mansion, but none of them looked tangible, or even three dimensional. They looked like paintings on the wall of a house, the inhabitants of which liked black a little too much. There was no sun or even other, more distant stars. There was nothing. A world of nothingness.

And Stephen finally despaired. He rose his head to what he thought would have been the sky, if there had been a sky here, and exclaimed, "O, I die, Horatio; the potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit: I cannot live to hear the news from England; but I do prophesy the election lights on Fortinbras: he has my dying voice; so tell him, with the occurrents, more and less, which have solicited. The rest is silence." He fell to his knees, with a pained expression that made him look as if he were about to begin sobbing.

"What IS that rubbish?" cried one of those in the crowd. "England? Poison?"

Another, more educated soul who had heard all of Stephen's outbursts to date exclaimed, "What, do you have the whole thing memorized?"

"Have what thing memorized?" Inquired the first.

It was with the conversation of these two that Stephen realized most of the people around him were silent, their eyes affixed on him. He decided to add a little more onto his charade.

His eyes wide and damp and his expression saddened and longing, he carefully whispered, "Now cracks a noble heart!" And then fell, as if fainting. He listened as a collective gasp rose up from the small crowd around him, and he was satisfied. Opening night had been a success.

-~-
NOTE: If Stephen makes no sense to you, don't worry. He's not supposed to. For those of you who for some reason have Hamlet memorized the same as he, you can giggle. Or you can still be confused. But that's okay, that's the point. He won't be quoting plays ALL the time.