From Shadows to Starlight

Life and Death

He braced himself for the impact, and then, he was slammed against the rock. It was wet and slippery, and he scrambled to find a hand or foothold. Finally, he found one, and somehow he strained until he found the strength to drag himself slowly, painfully, to the top of the rock.

There he collapsed, coughing up water from his lungs and gasping for breath. Erik was still numb from the cold water so he could not feel his injuries as much as he knew he would later, but his entire body was sore all over. He was tired, so, so tired.

I’ll just rest here for a while, he thought, until I get the strength to move again.

Maybe I’m already dying.

I can’t die.

I can’t leave her.

Even if she left me, I have to stay here. Stay alive.

I won’t die, I’ll just close my eyes for a moment, and rest.

You’re dying.

I will not let myself die!

It doesn’t matter what you think, you’re still going to die…

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Alana had been running alongside the river’s edge, looking for any sign of Erik. She was beginning to lose hope. He’d probably sunk right to the bottom when they’d thrown him into the water, and drowned.

He’s probably dead.

No, she told herself. No. He can’t be dead.

But how could he possibly survive this? She knew he was strong, but she didn’t know if he was strong enough to pull through, if anyone could endure that much suffering.

There was a sudden pain in her foot, and she found herself falling forward. She looked down at her bare foot, and saw that she’d cut herself on a sharp stone, blood starting to ooze from the scrape. She got up painfully and continued to limp along, fresh tears running down her face as her hope dwindled even further.

But then she saw something.

A boulder that started on the riverbank and reached into the water. Spray splashed up all around the rock, washing over something that looked like…

That looked like a man.

Alana broke into a run and climbed up onto the rock, nearly tumbling headlong into the river as she tried to move across the slippery wet surface. “Erik!” she shouted over the sound of the rushing water. Slowly, she edged across the rock until she was close enough to touch him. She reached out and took his arm, shaking him slightly. “Erik!”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Erik was walking toward a gigantic black gate. He could see nothing beyond it but pillars of smoke and ash rising up to what should have been the sky.

But somehow there was no sky.

He could smell something like burnt, rotten flesh, and he could hear people screaming. He swore he heard his own voice among the screams.

Slowly, slowly, the black gates began to slide open, and he felt a blast of heat upon his face. He was moving toward the gates. He didn’t want to go, but he was being drawn in, and he couldn’t stop himself from walking forward.

Suddenly, Erik thought he heard someone calling his name.

Then, his feet stopped moving. He turned and looked behind him.

He saw an angel.

At least, he thought it was an angel. It was a being that shone so brilliantly that he couldn’t even look directly at it. He shaded his eyes from the bright light, and he heard that voice saying,