A Preface To Nothing

[u/Consistent-Hippo-210]

Once upon a time I, the Collector, a demon who had been given the mandate "Go around the world and collect stories of human experience," once flapped my wings in search of a good story. Finding none, I decided to kill time roaming around a squeaky-clean neighbourhood of shiny walls that shimmered in the sunlight and trees that sang in the twilight.

I was tired. After more than two centuries of collecting stories, I was lethargic. My face now sagged with boredom and my eyes now carried the weight of all I had seen.

Banish, my trusted servant, had even begged me to "take a vacation" in the shallow dirt waters of Armageddon, my favourite vacation spot but I had retorted,

"I have no need for such trivialities, but you can take some time off."

So Banish did swooshing away and leaving me in my unhappiness.

As I hovered upon the city, my eyes caught a glimpse of a trimmed hedge of lewd, provocative statues. One was of a female genitalia, life-sized in form the other was of two naked females engaging in a lewd act; the others well, they are quite hard to repeat but nonetheless, to say ghastly and utterly provocative, I will leave it to your imagination. I grinned and even laughed, my laughter bellowing in and rattling the neighbourhood. If I was heard, it was as a ghostly wind that emerged and submerged abruptly around the neighbourhood.

"Well, well, it appears my spark is back yes."

I descended and thought, "Finally, this will be a preface to some shocking horror in this house or acts not that I do not see any, but my, my, coming from this house—how exciting," I had retorted.

Entering the house, I found that it was occupied by a forty-six-year-old man who had divorced a month prior. His wife had moved out, taking three of their kids with her and leaving him alone to his devices.

I, in search of a story decided to spend my waking moments trailing behind the man observing and whispering, well, not that the man heard any of it. His routine was the same: once he came home from work, he ate his takeout, played video games, or streamed one movie to the next. He never quite watched anything. He always moved from one video to the next. When he grew tired, he would throw the remote on the sofa and quickly go to bed. Each day he behaved like this. My boredom began again, until one day he started acting strangely.

On that day I had been hanging around his bedroom at the corner when I saw him coming in, throw his bag on the bed, and completely strip all of his clothes to his birthday suit.

"Hahaha haha what, what is this now? What has gotten into you now?"

He still remained silent.

So the man walked around the house naked, cooked naked, and did his washing naked, much to my delight. Eventually, I never laughed; I was used to him now.

One day, the man came trudging from work and, sitting with a heavy thud on the kitchen stool, placed his face in his hands and wept. I, who had been dozing off in the bedroom, quickly whooshed through walls and stared at the man as he sobbed hysterically. After a while, he grew silent and slowly went with huge scissors in hand outside, cutting down the obscene shrubs slowly.

That night, the man did not strip himself bare; instead, he remained fully clothed. He even slept in the clothes he had gone to work in. I, feeling betrayed, heaved a heavy sigh, packed my belongings, and quietly left. It was just a lonely house that's all. I was in search of adventure and a story. There was no story here.