Nothing Comes From Nothing

It was as if something actually did … for once.
A small hand grasping for nothing, but nevertheless it was a real hand doing it. The moment felt sacred, even though it was just as easy to use the word ‘scared’. Was the sole witness scared or were the gestures of the hand having come from nothing indicating its own fear? But why was the witness’s first, if fleeting, impression that of the hand being sacred. Almost a religious act or a blessing, even a warning of greater things to come. Or a call for help to be rescued from a place that was the opposite of Heaven, a place that the witness dared not mention by name.
The witness looked around to see who else had noticed. But, of course, the witness was surrounded by nothing. The witness was alone. Except for the witness who witnessed the first witness and wrote this as description. Which witness came first? Which witness came third?
The hand was, by now, reaching further into sight; in fact the arm was showing itself up to the elbow. A small hand and an elbow to scale. The fingers wagged as if they yearned for a glove to be fitted snugly upon them. An imploring or importuning motion that hypnotised the first witness. Nothing had ever before given birth to such sadness by the hand’s apparent ability to bless or terrorise coming to nothing. It had tried to use methods of being both sacred and scary when hauled fully into the open, and given clothes to match the glove. The second witness who had written about the first witness, it seemed, had sacrificed a glove to satisfy the new arrival’s needs. And should another hand blossom forth, they seemed ready to sacrifice a second glove. Even a third glove. Nothingness had won or nothingness had lost. And the prospect of a third hand was an implication too far regarding exactly who was coming through. And how many!
We did not want our heartstrings tugged by such small hands’ pleading, strings that might otherwise be strung for Heavenly harps to play a more sacred tune than ‘somewhere over the nowhere’ elsewhere. All the witnesses, by now had vanished into nothing, scared that there could be no ending. A Hell of elbows linked each to each. Terror with all its gloves now off.