(All work is my own)
Far, far away Timothy could see the blue sky meet the ground. He knew it was a long walk, but that was where he was going.
He walked. The days became weeks. The weeks became months. He walked for so long walking became his normal state of being. One day he was finally there. He had finally reached it. The end of the world.
He could see clouds rise from the ground, moving up on the blue velvet enhancing above Earth in a majestic half sphere. It was bigger than he’d ever imagined, the curve could hardly be seen. He moved closer. Dropped his little luggage on the ground. His heart beat faster. All his wonders, all his beautiful dreams. They were here.
He touched the sky.
It moved strangely, like a liquid, yet firm. Its surface made waves around his hand. Tears ran down his cheeks, touching the edges of a bright smile. He wished they they had been here. His mother, his little sister. All his loved ones. He wished they could see him, all the people who laughed at him, told him there was no edge of the world. The people who didn't believe.
He had reached the end of knowledge, the end of all anyone had ever seen, but he needed more. He needed to know what was behind the veil. Behind the sky. Outside the world.
He got his knife out, tried to cut it. The fabric covered the knife, ceded to the blade, but remained unharmed. He tried to jump at it, to fall through. He bounced back, gently, and landed back on the ground. He hit it with his stick, he threw rocks at it. It was unbreakable.
He started walking again, this time following the edge, moving along the horizon. As the sky by his side darkened, big, beautiful stars ascended from under ground, shining brighter than he’d ever imagined. He touched them. They were warm, but not too warm. Further to the south he could see the moon coming up, big and majestic. That night he slept with his back towards the sky. He felt safe.
He woke up by the emeging daylight. The sun came up, warmer than he’d ever felt it. It was still far away.
That has to be a horrible place, he thought. The place where the sun comes up.
He saw something. There was a little line in the sky. A crack. He moved closer. It could hardly be seen, like two curtains overlapping one another. With a shaking hand he took hold of one of the edges, pulled it a bit aside. He leaned in, holding his arm up to cover his eyes from the light of the world. He peered into the furthermore, into the beyond, into eternity.
There was nothing there. He stuck his head in. He shouted. No echo. Nothing at all. Not even darkness, no void. Nothing he could see. Nothing he could understand. Nothing.
He hadn’t expected that. He kept staring, searching for something, anything. There was nothing there for him to see, nothing his mind could perceive.
He turned around, looked at the world he knew. Sat down in the grass, feeling the wind in his face. For a long time he sat there. The sun was going down in a distance, colouring the clouds and the landscape. It was beautiful. He got up, took a last little peek behind the veil. He shrugged, turned around and started walking. It was time to get home. His little sister was waiting.
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This story is inspired by Immanuel Kant's Critic of Pure Reason