In a peculiar realm in what seemed to be a sort of eternal limbo, far off from any layer of reality you and I could comprehend, existed an equally peculiar entity. This mysterious being could peer into countless universes, an infinite amount of possibilities of what lay beyond the confines of nothingness.

It was confined to its own timeless existence. The Observer was unable to experience all that it saw before its all-seeing eyes. Day after monotonous day, if time ever existed at all, it would spend all of its time examining all these worlds and picking them apart one by one. Each living organism it observed came with them a journey that either laid before them or already traveled, meanwhile, all The Observer could do was watch.

The Observer didn’t have a face.

Nor a voice.

One could doubt it even was indeed living.

If anything, it could’ve been limbo itself.

But it still longed for things.

It craved what it was missing.

So, with the limits of its endless imagination, it began to recreate such scenarios and places. Life. Death. Happiness. Sadness. Love. And heartbreak. It wanted to feel all of these.

But no matter how vivid these images were, that was all it was. Images. Fast-moving pictures on a screen in an attempt to recreate something to try to make the watcher feel something raw.

But the Observer could never relate to something.

That it’s never experienced.