Here's a short story by Nick Torres...

A Heart as a Home

Wills eyes fluttered and he was slowly stuttering back from sleep. His bare back lay exposed to the wind from the fan. The gentle melodic humming of its engines was calling his mind back into dreams. He was dreaming that his friends had forgot him. There he was standing alone in blue jeans and a gray shirt. On a balcony over looking blackness. They had left him on purpose and he was all alone standing, gazing at the moon. The moon appeared to be moving closer to him and slowly growing. He felt all alone in the whole world and had the sense of betrayal and fear, that he was stuck forever here. This frightened him out of sleep. He turned over making the covers wrap tightly around him. His mind was very clouded and the feeling in his dreams remained. He wondered where his friends had gone and began feeling sad and very depressed. These thoughts kept churning inside him over and over again. The slow repeating of these thoughts in his mind dulled his thinking abilities. He soon found himself drifting back into his dream. The moon was now gigantic and amazingly white. It seemed as if you could step inside it, into another place, and go walking off into the distance and be lost in the white. Now the scenery has changed. He was looking down into a room. The room was somewhere he had never been. There were several large leather couches and big round carpets spread throughout the floor. Lamps and tables full of coffee mugs, pens, papers and napkins, movie tickets, and nickels and pennies were sporadically arranged around the area. Everybody was very comfortable and pleasant. They were all wearing their favorite clothes and they all looked quite attractive. The music was great. There was one specific group of people standing near the stereo in the room. They were huddled around it discussing which cds to listen to. All of the cds were outstanding. He very much liked the music he was hearing and so did everybody else. He wanted to know what they were going to listen to next. He tried to listen to what they were saying but couldn't understand a word. He knew he wasn't supposed to be there and that is why he didn't hear what they were debating to put in. Several of them were laughing, others were arguing that it should be this while others still argued that it should be that. He wanted to hear them, he wanted to be involved in the discussion. Finally he started yelling "Hey! Hey! Hey you guys! Come on! Hey!" but they kept on not hearing him, he knew he wasn't actually there but he was just looking at them. For some reason though he knew they were ignoring him. Will knew that they knew that he wasn't supposed to be there, he wasn't there, and they didn't mind. He was desperately flailing his arms and jumping. About ready to jump off the edge. Nothing changed. The laughter grew more boisterous and the arguments grew more fiery and witty. The music was so loud it was deafening and turning into silence. Every passing moment was leading to a climatic crescendo. He was growing more and more desperate. Jumping, screaming, kicking, waving. He even tried to concentrate all his efforts on one person. Thinking that he could connect with them maybe mentally. All of his thought was bent on getting this persons attention. They saw him in the corner of their eye, but they did not pay him any attention. He gripped the balcony banister so tight all the muscles in his arms instantly hardened. The skin in his hand turned white with pressure. He began shaking himself violently against it, pulling with all his might. Either too tear it apart or to tear himself apart. Yelling constantly. He began yelling vulgar words and became consumed with anger and sadness. Knowing he wasn't supposed to be there and he wasn't welcome. The laughter, the yelling, the terrific music, and all the voices were reaching an unbearable static. Everything was leading to a dramatic ending. He felt it coming. Like how you see an object flying towards you at incredible speed. You know it is going to hit, you know it is going to hurt, you know you cant stop it. So you just close your eyes and brace yourself. This is what he did as he bent to the ground still clutching the banister. Holding on to it for his life. He closed his eyes and braced himself by relaxing. It was coming. It was so close he could feel it touching his soul. Then it hit. Everything went quite and disappeared and he was hit in the heart with the greatest pain imaginable. The pain of being alone, the pain of having nobody, the pain of no one caring. He sprawled out on the balcony floor, trying to grab hold of his heart to stop the hurt. He suddenly felt very cold. He breathed out and he watched his warm foggy breath fly up into the empty sky. He followed it up and up until he lost it against the shining whiteness of the moon. The moon expanded at a terrific rate. It had already stretched beyond the horizon and was now widening and stretching. Will was no longer on the balcony, he was now laying upon the void. He didn't care. His heart was paper cut in half. He spread out his arms and legs, exposing his chest. Trying to let the pain inside him float up and dissipate. He felt as if he had been shot or stabbed in the chest with incredible force, but very.....very... slowly. The knife was going into his heart deeper and deeper, one fiber at a time. And with each passing minute that the knife went that much deeper the pain would multiply. With each fleeting cut the pain would be twice as bad as the last. He lay with his chest open in acceptance to this torture. Wishing upon a star that an anvil would come crashing through the sky, shattering the moon, and falling onto the knife. Gouging out his heart, anything to stop the pain. The moon had now completely surrounded him. It was as if the moon flattened out and then stretched itself around him, forming a ball. But it wasn't paper thin. It was infinitely deep and went off into forever in all directions. He was floating there in a dazzlingly white, infinitely empty, crystal clear, never-ending universe. His pain was gone with this new home. He was all alone. No-one existed. He didn't exist. He was just, "there". No one was there, there were no problems, everything was perfect. Everybody was okay. He smiled to himself and felt warm and happy. He was content with no one, as long as everything was like this. If there isn't anything in a world, if there is nothing, then everything is okay, and everyone is alright. He breathed in and the smell of summers long past filled his lungs. He suddenly felt wanted. There was someone out there that cared for him. It is a great feeling to be loved. It made him happy that he was still thought of. But there was no need. He felt loved being alone. This world was his friend and its emptiness was his company. No more hurt. He knew he wouldn't be alone forever and that he couldn't stay here. That one day he would be found and he would break free or be torn from this wonderful, paradise, prison. He would find love in that person, he would be in that persons heart, and that would be his home. A place where he could love again.