Reflect How Soon You’ll Quit this Stage
It’s a bitch, waking up dead. Bright lights burn the last breath of life on the pathways of the brain. The images replay along the sides of a tunnel, the Great Wormhole from There to Here.
From Life to Something Else.
I can still see him. Standing there. Casual. Killing me.
Light erupted from the end of the gun and enveloped me. No matter where the bullet hits, that living light of Death, it penetrates the soul through the eyes.
Just so you know. It’s best to be prepared for the inevitable.
That’s why I’m Here.
I can’t quite see, but I can feel her. She died Here, within these four walls. Tubercular, she was.
I slide my feet along the rough planks, my hands outstretched, atingle at the prospect of her touch. Take me, I whisper. Take me now. Don’t make me go back There. I can’t do it. Not again. Not even for you.
Her breath stirred my matted hair and blew Life into my eyes. She flung a kiss from her fine fingers and merged with stained wallpaper and flecks of paint. Her voice lingered long enough to insist.
You found me once. Remember? I’m not Here. I’m There.
…….TO BE CONTINUED…….