The Death of Me (Fiction)

(This post has been imported from an old blog of mine.)

Somewhere in the distance I see her eyes, glowing green in the darkness. “Tes!” I call out for her, but she is already gone. I stand in the swirling black, watching the pine trees around me sway in the winds.

The world slowly rips apart, brightening and darkening in an erratic fashion. I know what is going to happen next, it happens the same way every time. A glowing white doorway opens in front of me.

I reach out, silently asking for help. A shadow comes to the doorway from the other side. Their eyes briefly show in clarity, an extremely pale blue. Then everything starts to fade, and the shadow’s eyes turn red.

I fall to the floor, and feel the stab wounds on my back. I reach for the doorway, seeing light reflect off of my hand. My hand is wet. With my other hand, I feel for where my guts were a moment ago.

I try to ask for help, but my throat only lets out the sound of a weak gargle. I taste bitter salt, my own blood and bile rising up. I feel ice water dashed across the back of my head, my face slams into the ground. It is concrete.

The cinder-block slides off of the back of my head. I wonder how I can withstand this much pain, and die.

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