Floating, drifting above their heads. A black wingless bird teetering on the edge of life. Seeing everything. Seeing nothing. Hurtling past sanity, reality and reason. Heading where? Somewhere.

Seconds ago, or was it minutes, maybe hours, I was part of the daily march. Thinking, not caring, seeing, being. Maybe thinking but not seeing. Distracted by mundane thoughts weighing down my mind.

It hadn’t come out of nowhere, it had come out of somewhere. Sent, to guide me out of this world. A giant chariot of innocent metal force. Powerful enough to nudge me out of here, out of now.

I didn’t feel a thing when it hit. One instant I was on the ground the next I was floating. No time to scream, no time to brace. It hit and immediately my body was on fire from the pain. Next instant the pain and everything else was gone. The ground surrendered my feet.

Now time has lost all meaning as I float above their heads. I know I have to say goodbye, but up here I’m all alone, so I whisper farewell to the wind. The ground greets me again, harshly, and throws me about.

I’m back together with the ground, waiting. I lie on red liquid sheets that spread fast beneath me. They become bigger and bigger as the world dissolves from my sight, from my memory.

All sounds travel further and further away from me. I can’t smell the air anymore. My body disappears. I cease to have hands and legs and skin. I’m now just a floating presence. My body rests broken, my mind is quiet, my heart lies still.



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