Rest In Peace

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is my first piece of writing written in 2nd person, I hope you like it. I didn't really plan it either, so if it doesn't really make sense, I'm sorry about that.

Submitted: December 14, 2013

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Submitted: December 14, 2013

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Open your eyes and gaze into the darkness. Smell the dead air, feel if fill your lungs. Reach out with your fingers and graze the tips along wooden walls. Strain your ears to hear a sound, to hear the silence. Alone. You’re alone. Alone inside a box. Feel the panic well up inside your body, choking you, your limbs thrashing like they’re attached to a puppeteer’s strings. No control. Scream once, twice and fall silent, fall still. No movement. You can hear your heart beating, air as it comes rushing from your mouth. Thoughts dance across your mind. You knew it was going to happen. You just weren’t sure when. After all, everyone has to die eventually. You lie still and compose yourself. It will be painless, you know that. It’s happened before. But still your heart races, refusing to settle down. You can’t fight the fear growing like a cold stone in the pit of your stomach. You don’t want to die. Try to focus on a memory; the sun rising in the morning, pink and orange blazing out across a green land, shining in your eyes; diving down deep into crystal waters, lungs pleasantly full of air, smooth water slipping over your soft skin; tumbling through a clear sky, wind rushing past your ears as you race for the ground, a parachute strapped firmly to your back. It doesn’t help. It never does. Why does this have to happen to you? Anger now, burning through your body, boiling your blood. Why do you have to die? Why do you have to remember? You think back to your past. Countless lives lived over and over and over. You remember the fall of the Roman Empire. You remember world war one. You remember world war two. You remember 9/11. You remember everything, each time seen through different eyes, but the same mind. You’re tired. So very, very tired. And you can’t rest. You can never rest. Death. This is not what happens to you. This state you’re in right now is only an imitation of death. You can never die really. Never. You can never reach that fabled place of peace, that place of eternal rest. How you yearn for it. Silent tears slowly drip from your face to the floor. What did you do wrong to have to endure this? How can you ever escape? You run out of tears to cry and lie there patiently, waiting to live another life. Only this time, something changes. Pain. Pain floods your body from head to toe, surging through your muscles, invoking an involuntary scream. Is this it? Are you dying?

Open your eyes and squint in the bright light. Smell the fresh air, surging through your lungs, invigorating, new. Reach out with your fingers and stroke them through the cool soft grass. Listen with your ears to hear the quiet bird song. You’re not alone. There’s someone beside you, slowly breathing, in and out, in and out, in and out. Peacefulness flows over you, washing your tense face smooth. You know you’ve made it. You’re not tired any more. You finally made it to the fabled place of eternal rest. A smile slides across your face as you close you eyes and drift to sleep. Tell yourself it doesn’t matter how long you sleep for. After all, you deserve it.


© Copyright 2017 AndreaPykett. All rights reserved.

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