Grief of an Outsider

In the mind runs a chasm just this side of death                                                                         To go beyond would be to go too far

She closes her eyes to rest when lights appear, moving towards her in twos, faster and faster they come. She swerves to get out of the way.

Whoosshhh

The lights rush past barely missing her, leaving behind an icy chill…full of fear.  No time to muse. One after another they come – seemingly endless, out of nowhere – she lurches this way and that, then back again, only to find herself in the path of a new set, inches from the ones she just escaped…through it all, she asks:

“Will this be the one and then I’ll be no more?”

Suddenly, the lights vanish and she’s moving through a tunnel –black and still…too still. Traveling downward, not falling, just moving slowly and steadily down. She turns constantly, looking.  Looking, for what?

Dread

It’s there lurking quietly, so quietly.  Waiting…    Anxiety grows. Her chest tightens. Pulse quickens. She moves on.

There appears a room – a small room, with a door directly in front of her at the other end. She passes through the room and to the door.  As she reaches for the knob she knows that in this room abides distress, evil, and death. Still…

She opens the door.

The room is long, rectangular in shape and filled with objects reeking of familiarity. What these objects are she is not certain, for the room is too dark to see clearly. To the left, at the length of the room, in the corner, she perceives a glow and moves towards it. Drawing closer, she notices that the glow consumes the entire corner from floor to ceiling, yet it gives off no light. A red glow…devoid of warmth, allowing shadows and vague outlines silhouetted within the space.  Evil resides here.  She turns away from the shadows                 into darkness.

There, she comes upon a scene taking place before her. She can hear nothing yet her vision is unobstructed, for the scene is contained within a glass cubicle. She has access to all sides from which to observe, though she is not allowed to interrupt in any way.

An intimate scene….

A young man and his wife, in an advanced state of pregnancy, sit talking in their bed. The man stands up to walk out of the room; at the same moment, the woman grimaces with pain, and slumps over.  He runs to her, lifts her off the bed and onto the floor. Her coloring has begun to blue, her body limp, her belly still. It is too late…both are gone.

“And so quickly,” she utters.

“Tis the way,” a voice from behind her remarks.                                                                                                She turns to see who has spoken, but there is no one, only the feeling of a presence and the sound of its voice. As she moves away, she catches a glimpse of the young man working frantically, yet rhythmically, trying to erase the tragedy. On his face is written loneliness and desperation, for he knows that all he loves has perished

in a moment.

She feels saddened by it all, but with a tinge of envy                                                                the young woman has stepped across the chasm                                                                                                and knows the other side.

Once again, she finds herself in the stillness of the tunnel. This time there is no dread, for it has gone. Cold and numbness now accompany her.