Dec. 21, 2015
She sat down at the edge, letting her feet dangle over the sides. The blackness of space felt cool through her jeans as she looked out past the edge of reality, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
Leaning backwards, she dipped her fingers in smallish galaxy, and pulled out a handful of stars. Standing, she began skipping them across the strange nothingness sending ripples of reality that sparkled and shivered. It made her eyes feel delightfully weird to warp the fabric of nothing. More void than the void. More nothing than the vaccuumy, vastness.
She dusted her hands off and curled her toes over the edge. With a little bend in her knees, she dove off the edge, arching into a swan-dive. Apparently nothing feels wonderful. She spread her wings, and began to sing and the song stretched and flexed, creating minuscule universes in each note. Her silken hair became the currents of time.
She knew it felt rough, as all realities tend to. But she also knew it was beautiful and would stretch even farther than before. And she knew someone would walk to the edge once more and sing. And she vanished into the creation.