I lived.
I died.
But what did I leave behind? A little brother who will or won't remember his big sister, a distracted father, a distant mother and a not quite evil stepmom.
Is that all?
While I lye sightless and weightless and utterly lost in this perpetual fog I try to find a spark of live, of will, of everything; but memories fades so quickly here, that I soon forget the exact shade of blond of Toby's hair, the freckles on his nose and the sound of his voice.
Time passes, measured by my losses.
Grief is outside my reach and so is my name.
Who am I?
The space, this nothingness, seems to be expanding, eating my perceptions, corroding my frayed sense of self. Soon I will be no more.
I know nothing, I am nothing.
Light…how cliché.
Yet is light what I see, what I feel, what I breathe.
There is a distant voice, powerful, compelling; which keep saying a word: Sarah.
Sarah…Sarah…Sarah.
What do I feel? Sweetness untold and whispers in the dark; all tied, all bound to this word, this name.
My name?
Again the sound echoes in the light and something…shifts.
Space before limitless, endless and rather white; appears more compressed.
There is a strange sort of energy in the air, all stress and nervousness, a large feline in the jungle, hunger and thirst… something waits something wants.
And the light shatters.
I breathe again!