It was a cold winter night. Snow arrived early that year and wild winds made sure people stay inside the safety of their homes.
But some were less lucky than the rest. A white bearded shade was floating through the forest. From a distance of the nearest windows even looked like a ghost haunting for prey. They’ve seen a lot of them lately.
This was, though, different. Looked scared. Often turned its head to take a peek behind where it came from. But there was nothing else visibly around.
He was in terror. He could feel death creeping up behind him, stretching its invisible arms to cuddle his body in an eternal hug. He had to run. The howling frosty wind blew in his face. Every step made a noise as loud as a gunshot as the snow crunched under his feet in the silent night.
He knew he was not going to make it. Still had to run.
His clothes were ragged. Each branch took its toll tearing more and more layers off until there was nothing more left than his bare skin. The touch of the freezing wind was like the fingers of the unknown, already reaching for him.
He had lost the ability to control his actions. Did not remember where he came from, his first memories were being in the forest, running. The ghostly shades of trees looked like Death itself standing in his way from all sides. His mind was going in circles of madness.
Fragments of a distant life as backsides of snowflakes drifted around him. Some of them he felt close to until the wind swept them into a swirling dance and they lost any meaning again. ‘Who am I?‘ — he pondered. ‘What am I running from?‘
No answer came from the depth of his mind, only the sense of fear. He has to run.
The end came suddenly. At first, it was just a slight push against his back, as if a stray branch had snapped back at him. But then, agony erupted. Sharp, searing pain. The sound of the gunshot never reached his ears, drowned out by the cacophony of his own fear. He felt the bullet tear through his flesh, an unwelcome intruder marking its path with fire.
He collapsed onto the ground, the snow beneath him slowly staining crimson with his blood. In this desolate winter landscape, he lay far from any salvation. His breathing became labored, each exhale more strenuous than the last.
In these final moments, the boundary between life and death blurred. He had always imagined death as a void, a state of unawareness where only the physical body lingered before returning to the earth. But as his consciousness waned, he found himself questioning that belief. Was there more to this transition? A part of him seemed to linger, hovering at the edge of existence.
Did he die at all? Questions crossed his mind as he started to realise that he lost the pain. It did not hurt anymore. He felt light as a feather. Floated around in… He could not realise where. There were no landmarks he could recognise. He just floated upwards.
Or was it down? How do you define up and down in this state? What state is it?
He could not feel his body anymore.
He drifted towards something he was not able to understand. He just felt the presence of others. Like him. Drifting closer and closer to each other.
He had no eyes to see. No ears to hear. Still he could slowly understand them.
And they were just as confused. Scared. Excited. Waiting. Joining.
Joining? He was never in his life able to capture others’ emotions. Now he had it all. It was too overwhelming. He was not capable of processing all this.
There was no sense of time. Did a minute pass, yet? An hour? A year? Did it matter?
They were getting closer to something. Still had no senses, but could feel the presence of… Himself. And the others. And the impression was that there’s no difference. No Him and Them. No fear nor Excitement.
It was One and All.
He was not religious. Nor he believed in life after death. Still as they approached the One — he/they could not come up with a name for It — they/he started to understand. It had a meaning so much more than their beliefs before.
He just got a glimpse of it when he felt being dragged away. It did not last longer than a second still he knew he wanted to stay. But had no power over himself.
Senses of fear and anger filled him. The sense of loss. Losing something he did not really understand yet. And there were the others. Drifting in both directions.
Slowly he became isolated again. The movement(?) became faster and faster as he neared a point that looked as dark as the darkest blackhole he could imagine.
He wanted to get back. With all his might he tried to reverse, but no success.
Then he got suck into the darkness. Is this Hell? — he pondered. If it was it was rather empty as he could feel no others around. But it was dark as night without stars. And warm. He forgot how warmth feels like. The last thing he remembered was the cold snow on his wounded skin.
Warmth. And slow thumping. Da-dab. Da-dab. Like a distant drum. Did he really hear it? Or just felt. It was comforting. And scary at the same time.
He wanted out. He decided he wanted to get back to the One. He wanted to Know. Feel. Be part of it and share it with the Others.
But he could not find a way to get out. But he learned how to adapt to his new position. He kicked with his feet — he had feet again? — but no sign of exit. He moved from side to side, but the space was too small and got smaller every day.
He heard distant voices trying to calm him, but he could not get the source. It was all dark. Everywhere.
Then he felt a push. Someone came to help him back? Was it just a test before he can join the One for eternity? His heart(?) filled with hope. he felt a bit of pain, but if that was the price, he survived worse before.
A sudden light blinded him. Noises and smells everywhere. Smell of blood. Was he still dying, and was it the light he heard about?
He felt the soft touch of hands around him. Giant hands. He wanted to open his eyes, but the light was too bright. He wanted to tell them to let go, to let him back to the One.
But all he could hear was him crying.