“Allegory, I’ve wondered.. how was the world around us made?”

The cluster of eyes at the edge of its mouth turned murky with thought, and it drew back from him, slowly, wavering through the chamber’s still air. “In moments,” it finally answered. “And instants, and inches. One, merciless upon last, over and again.”

“Were they all yours?”

Now that was a question. “All are mine in meaning,” it gloated. “All but the first, at first. Now, as it is, buried under all the after.. so too it is mine, for it is why what is next.”

The boy fell silent. It wobbled close again, curious; brought its head close to the boy’s chest, to look in the eye a down-turned face. Was met with a small hand gripping softly to it, as if it were a wandering pet the boy was trying gently to keep in place. Permitted this.

“..so, without you, it really wouldn’t mean anything at all,” he whispered. It was always interesting watching Rennuid find for himself an epiphany like this. He would make himself very small, and never look you in the eye, while he chased to the ends of his thoughts – as if he felt them to be within some delicate glass apparatus, and if he left them for others’ view too freely, the workings would surely come to break.

It was not being asked a question. It did not see fit to answer.

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© Zazozaliad