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Rated: ASR · Short Story · Death · #2071058
A simple, dark scene.
I am on my knees, a naked shivering thing. I am alone. I reach out, searching in endless black, eager and terrified my timid hands will touch something. I call out but there are no words. There is no sound. I remember the wind on my face. The sound of the birds in the distance. The bustling of traffic. I remember falling. Falling. The feel of the pavements sudden embrace. The taste of bile in my throat.

I am alone.

Should I cry? Scream until my lungs rupture? Should I bury my face and simply forget what surrounds me? Can anyone hear me? Does anyone care?

A light breaks from above, illuminating a circle around me. The light burns my eyes, but I keep them open.It's so strong, so bright. And yet it is so cold. I look at my hands, cold and pale, shaking. My frail body, wrinkled skin. Is this me? My hand runs along the top of my smooth head. I slowly go to my knees, feeling the cold bite of the grey ground on my skin.

I look into the darkness and see my face. I see my life; every mistake I ever made. I am the darkness. Where does the time go? A lifetime of mistakes.

I'm sorry.

I stand up, feeling the weakness in my knees, the aching in the my lower back. Looking up into the blinding light, I close my eyes, picturing all I would have done differently. So many things. If I'd only known.

I walk into the darkness.

And I don't look back.
© Copyright 2016 Michael Angerona (mcox64870 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2071058-I-am-the-Darkness