Every journey has a beginning, but no-one knows where it might end…

Every journey has a beginning, but no-one knows where it might end…

As I lay there, dying, I reflected on the journey that brought me to this place. They say that as you die, your life flashes before your eyes. For some, it brings happiness, joy from things accomplished and pleasant memories. For others, it brings pain, regret of missed opportunities and numerous disappointments. I pity them, for my eyes show me nothing but the dark clouds rumbling overhead, unleashing their fury on world surrounding me.

They also say that a dark and stormy night is too cliché. Yet here I am, lying in the rain, waiting to die. As the rain streams off my body, washing away the blood, I keep my breathing even. What is left of my life is being slowly washed away. I do not fear death, for I am already dead. I have died once before, but yet I still live.

It was only in death that I could truly begin to live. I was trapped inside myself, unable to break the cycle. Life was the great constant, stable, persistent, unchanging. My life was on a loop, the epitome of normality. Always the same, day in and day out.

And then I died.

With death came a freedom I had never experienced before. The routine was altered, normalcy diminished. The cage was gone, and suddenly, I could fly. I discovered a part of me that I never knew existed. Or perhaps it never had, until then.

It gave me a reason to be. I was destined to be a hero, he told me that himself. But unlike the heroes in the comic books, I could not live forever. My time would come, not a moment too soon. But was it worth it? Did my existence make a difference, change the world? I almost destroyed it once. But he changed my past, so I could change my future.

They say a journey concerns the movement from one place to another.

My journey has brought me to this place, where I must die. Again.