As I open my eyes, I see a dark figure standing in the corner. It’s completely black and has no face. Is it even human? The room turns a chilling temperature as I squeeze my eyes shut again. I try to roll over but my weak body fails me.
“It’s okay,” a voice whispers, “we’re all still here.”
As I manage to peak through my heavy eyelids, I recognise the lovely person talking to me. It’s my eldest daughter, Rosie. She grabs my hand so tight I can almost feel the bones being crushed, but I know not to be scared. She doesn’t realise that the little pressure she puts on me is agony to the every inch of my body. I’ve never felt so weak in my life.
“Did you see the dark figure in the corner?” I try to ask but my voice is a bare whisper. I try pointing to the left of the room but again, I don’t even have the energy to lift one finger.
As the minutes pass like hours, I can feel the dark figure approaching, getting nearer and nearer. I keep my eyes closed, as I don’t want my children to see the fear hidden under my lids.
I now know what that dark figure wants. But I am not ready. My body is telling me it’s time; it is now no use to the world. However my mind is alive and working, wanting to stay for as long as possible with my family, in my own life I built and was living.
The dark figure is now inside of me; my bones, my muscles, my veins. It’s trying to take me somewhere I’m not ready to go. I want to fight with all the strength I have, but I know that there is none left.
“It’s okay,” another voice whispers, but this is not the voice of my daughter.
I open my eyes with ease and I see my late wife, Rosaline, smiling at me. Her once wrinkled face is now smooth like when we first met forty two years ago. She stands in her long and lacy, white wedding dress. Her teeth are brighter than I’ve ever seen them. I stare at my breath-taking, beautiful wife, tears helplessly falling down my cheeks. I reach my hand out to touch hers but I am forcefully taken back to the bed in which I am so afraid to stay in.
The room is now pitch black. My children are nowhere to be seen. Silence is taking over.
“Rosaline!” I try to shout but again I feel too weak to even mouth the word with my frayed lips.
The pain is disappearing, I no longer feel weak nor strong. I feel like I am leaving; leaving this memory-built world of mine.
I am no longer afraid. I am ready.
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