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NB: In case you do not understand, the non-italics writing is not her thinking. It is a voice from an anonymous source.

The Dead Lady

4 – Asleep

I am falling. Where am I falling to? What am I passing?

Nothing.

It's all just nothingness.

Black.

Everywhere is black.

My mother's face emerges from the darkness, larger than life, larger than me… All grey. A grey face emerging from the darkness. Her blank eyes look right through me.

As I watch, her face seems to solidify…like cold, hard stone. Lifeless.

The air is suddenly sucked out of my lungs at the sight. A tear escapes my eye as air continues to rush past me. The face must be falling with me, at the same pace as me, as it remains level with me. I reach out, against the resistance of the air, but as I do, the face crumbles to dust.

To ash. It must be ash, not dust.

My heart sinks.

My fall suddenly increases in speed, so my stomach jerks, giving the sensation that it is flying up towards my heart.

As the rush of air increase, it is colder, making my eyes water.

Faces flicker before me.

These faces are not falling with me - they remain where they are as I fall past them.

What is this?

I recognise some of the faces.

They must be all of the people I have ever seen. There are many.

I am sick of falling now. Come, on – I'm ready to reach the bottom of whatever this is.

I can't. It's a bottomless pit.

There is no end.

There is no way out.

Even if I die, I can never escape this.

This is infinity. This is eternity. I can never un-exist. Dying is not an liberation.

But surely this is dying – what else could it be?

Dying is when you hit the bottom.

I start whirling around. This is the point that the faces of everyone you've ever truly loved appears before your eyes, out of reach, but smiling. Mother's face is back, still in the shadows. Still unobtainable. But in colour. Very saturated, but with slight evidence of colour. Evidence of life. And she smiles. She still does not focus on me; I am still invisible to her… But she is smiling.

She remains with me for a precious moment. We are finally reunited. Then she goes. Flying upwards, as I continue downwards.

Now comes that person you never expected.

Another woman appears. Dirty-blonde hair, bags under her eyes, thin, ill-looking. Scared-looking.

But this woman sees me. An arm appears, and she reaches out for me.

Then her face contorts, and she starts to shriek, eyes popping, mouth stretched wide open…

And I know. It's her. I never actually knew her… but I know who she is. And she knows who I am. I am her offspring, the baby she left in the snow. But I am just that. I am not her daughter.

I scream with her. Her arm reaches me. I don't want her to touch me. Still screaming piercingly, her hand smacks into the top of my head. She is pushing me downwards.

And now you die.

I speed up.

Faster and faster, I am plummeting to the ground.

Somehow, I can sense the ground coming nearer, though I can't see it.

Everything is black. The bottom of this is a hard mass of solid air – no material can be used to describe it.

And I smack into it.

But the ground isn't where you die, is it, Bathilda? I was lying. Because, as you pointed out yourself, even though death is inescapable, death is not an escape…