Once upon a time, there was absolutely nothing. And I mean, absolutely nothing. There was no light, no sound, no sense of time or space.
It was just... nothing.
This state of nothingness persisted for what could have been eternity, or perhaps just a mere second - there was no way to tell. There were no observers, no consciousnesses, no minds to perceive or even ponder this void.
Then, something inexplicable happened. Suddenly, a tiny speck of light appeared, far off in the distance. It was so small, so faint, that it was barely visible, but it was there.
This speck of light grew slowly, imperceptibly at first, but then with increasing speed. It grew and grew until it filled the entire emptiness, until there was nothing left but light.
But this light too, was empty. It was a hollow light, without form or substance. It shone brightly, but it was meaningless, purposeless, and devoid of any significance.
For a while, the light simply existed, pulsing and shifting in random patterns. But eventually, it too faded away, leaving behind a vacuum of darkness once again.
And that was it. There was no climax, no plot, no characters, and no resolution. There was only nothing, and then something, and then nothing again. It was a story about nothing, with nothing to say, and nothing to offer.
Perhaps, this story was a reflection of the absurdity of existence, the randomness of the universe, or the futility of searching for meaning in a world that often seems to offer none. Or perhaps it was simply a meaningless exercise in writing about nothing, a whimsical experiment in exploring the boundaries of creativity and expression.
Whatever the case may be, one thing is for sure: this story was about absolutely fucking nothing.
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