Milkman's Nightmares
A tale which may or may not be a tale.
This is not a fairy tale. In fact, this is not a tale. Children and lizards alike, STAY CLOSE, but slightly away.
The story does not begin with a fictional writer writing a fictional story with fictional characters. The end consists of the writer getting killed by his savage and faceless characters that were brought alive by the writer's cultist fans.
One of such characters is Mill Davis, a non-person from Unland, a fictional land conceived by the writer's imagination. Mill Davis ran a milk shop and a dairy farm with a couple of non-cows. Other non-people from Unland, came in and bought milk and milk products there. There was no other shop or non-person who sold milk and milk products in Unland.
The titular milkman who experiences nightmares is precisely this particular Mill Davis. In his fictional life, he saw absurd, grim and dreadful nightmares of light, the chronic ailment called "good." These dreams were followed by agony, a hum, an incessant drone of high pitched blackness that remained until he drank some frozen milk and a few gallons of non-blood.
Over a course of some non-years, dreams and drones remained a constant. This torment was normalised, just like everything in Unland. But soon the dairy farm started collapsing, the non-cows started to give up and die, the other non-people in Unland who maintained their reticence started to speak. This may or may not have happened in Mill Davis's non-head.
Craziness persisted until a wormhole was procured by the writer's cultist fans inside Mill Davis's shop. Mill Davis, who liked little black holes that he could put himself in, and who was also a believer of the mercy of the non-God, went in.
Thus, Mill Davis was brought on Earth, without a body or a soul. However, he remained an extremely skilled milkman, capable of rendering milk from any cow and or, non-cow. Thus, he put himself to use.
He met his fellow characters who did not see him, because he was a non-person. But despite that, being an extremely skilled milkman, gave them milk to drink and replenish their vulgar insatiable hunger. The faceless characters went and killed their creator.
The End, which may or may not begin again, begins here.
Furthermore, this non-tale might or might not mean anything, and the reader ought or ought not to read it over and over again.
Author’s Note: Umm, WTF just happened here? What did I just write? Surely it must not mean anything? Either way, glad to write something on Substack once in a while after writing so many blogposts.
Hey, whatever happened to that guy Nibir who wrote self-improvement posts?