Posted 5:36 PM by Alfred

Darkness. Then, out of the edge of blackness, a stabbing pain, along with a sudden burst of light. He felt some of himself flowing out of open wounds. The feel of hard pavement, digging into those wounds, infecting them. Hopefully I’m dead, he thought. Dead, or, maybe even better, in a coma, he wanted to drift forever.

Jeremy could see himself, floating, as if defying gravity. Was this real? It couldn’t be, how could he possibly see himself? And he didn’t look good. His dark brown hair had turned to a ghastly white. And the hands. Blood dripped from them, was coating them, a beautiful dark red lather, drying in some spots, still nice and wet in others. Jeremy looked deep into his other self’s eyes, and his gaze was returned. He looked haggard, tired, almost dying, but happy.

The vision began to fade. “No!” Jeremy screamed. He wanted to talk to this vision, understand it. The red, he could still smell it. The vision was gone, but that odor, that sweet smell, was still lingering. Looking down, he saw a pool of blood, and in the pool was a face. It was Felicia, she was calling him, beckoning him towards his destiny. She was so beautiful. Then even her face began to fade, and Jeremy felt himself being pulled from his delirium.

The world, seemingly intent on his return, crept into focus, but he could still see the face. Felicia was gone, but she still smiled upon him, although she was being pushed away by his surroundings. He saw his house, his yard, his neighbors’ homes. The face began changing, mutating, and there like a beacon of light in the reigning, all-powerful pitch of the night, was his wife, loyal and loving Theresa, running towards him with tears in her eyes and care in her heart.

---