Beyond

It moved toward them, inexorably: blank and white, an end to their eyesight. They could not see or know beyond it.
“What is it?” one asked, curious. Interested.
“What is it?” another asked, afraid. Full of trepidation.
“I don’t know,” said a third.
“We should run,” said the fearful one. “It frightens me.”
“We cannot run,” said the third, gesturing behind. “We can’t go backward.”
Behind them, the world dropped off into another sort of nothingness, another sort of end — one which they knew, and had experienced as they passed.
“We should walk toward it,” said the curious one.
“What?” said the fearful one. “Why would we do that? It’s coming for us.” That one began to run, sideways, for there was nowhere else to go.
“Why are you running?” said the one who didn’t know. This one stood still.
“I am afraid. I don’t want it to catch me,” said the fearful one.
“I’m going to meet it,” said the curious one. “Then I don’t have to worry about it catching me. I’ll come together with it on my own terms.”
“Fine,” said the fearful one, who ran and ran and ran but the distance between them never increased. “I’m going to keep running.”
The one who didn’t know stood still. The curious one moved forward. The fearful one tried to run. But they all met that which they couldn’t know simultaneously.