Nothing. Absolute nothing. An infinite void, without life.
Darkness. Utter darkness. An infintessimal nightmare, devoid of movement.
Cold. Freezing cold. An everlasting cold, lacking any feeling at all.
Silence. Complete Silence. An all-consuming monotony of muteness.
Who…who am I?
It’s so dark! So very dark! Not even blackness! A void so deep… so deep it swallows and consumes me. Death…death is dark.
There is nothing here! Nothing! A void of absolute nothing! If there was something to feel…something to touch…I would touch it. But who am I?
There is no ‘I’. There is nothing. Death…in death there is nothing.
Cold…so cold! A biting, ripping, roaring cold! If there was something to freeze…but I have nothing. Death…death is cold.
Silent…so silent! A droning, monotonus tone of stillness. No sound echos, for there is nothing to hear.
My own voice does not ring. I hear nothing. Death…death is silent.
Who am I?
I am cold. I am dark. I am nothing. I am silent. I must be dead.
I embrace it.
It’s something I can’t escape, something I will always have, something nearby. A constant in life…An eternity in death. Forever there, forever
watching, forever waiting. It isn’t evil. It just does what it is. I’m not evil…am I?
Who am I?
I am Death.
Where am I?
Where do you go when you are dead?
I shutter to think about it.
There…there has to be something…
I should open my eyes. No sense in wasting my death in ignorance. I need to know what is out there.
But I’m scared.
I still need to know.
I’ll look on three.
© Copyright 2016 Allan Reinhard. All rights reserved.