Death came to Walter in a way that he had not imagined it would. Idyllic flashes of a future where old friends and family gathered around him upon his deathbed, set in a softly shadowed room touched only by the silent whispering of the sun setting slowly through window. He would have none of that. Instead he found himself almost in a dream.
A long narrow hallway lit by the flickering glow of a single overhead light, the smell of death and cordite faint in the air, the sound of screams droned out only by the sound of his own heavy breathing. The blood pounded in his ears as he looked up at the shadowed figure only a few paces distant, backlit by some unknown source. The figure raised its arm, mumbled some indistinguishable words, and suddenly the world was full of light and sound.
A flash of flame, and then the hollow, fading feeling of something- perhaps a softball he had not seen coming- struck him in the chest. Is was there, laying with his head on the hard floor that Walter’s vision seemed to became brighter in the darkened hallway. Quickly, the world lost shape as everything was enveloped in a blinding white glare. He wished he might look away, but for all his power found himself transfixed by the enveloping white supernova.
The glow softened and as his eyes refocused themselves. Where was he? What had happened? His eyes open slowly, taking in the familiar setting. The soft rumble of a truck passing by outside brought him out of his reverie. Was it all a perversely realistic dream? Slowly he rose up out of the bed. That had to be the only plausable explanation. Even as the cobwebs cleared from his head he felt the memory slowly receding into the mist of oblivian. Only the murky image of a shadow standing in a dim corridor remained as his feet descended the spiral staircase that led to the raised bedroom.
YOU ARE READING
Step Into The Light (Poetry and Prose Journal)
PoetryA poetry and prose journal of sorts. Be forewarned though, you might not get what you are expecting. Added to on a semi-regular basis.
