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Falling
Darkness took me
And I strayed out of thought and time…
(Gandalf-The Two Towers)
Boone was falling.
It seemed as if he was falling into an endless abyss; he could see the bottom-a great white light-but he couldn't reach it. He was falling forever.
The pain was a harsh reality compared to the world he had lived in once before, but despite all this, the pain was comforting in a way. Peaceful; he knew the end was near.
Or perhaps it was a beginning, the beginning of something so much better. He didn't want to die, and he doubted anyone ever did, but things happened on the Island for a reason, and he couldn't question it.
He found himself wondering what would happen if the raft ever set sail, and was picked up by a passing ship: he wondered if the others would forget about him, and he would only be known as that guy who died on the Island: an unknown blurry image that somewhat resemble a face.
He didn't know what happened, but one moment he felt excruciating pain, and the next it was over. A light blinded him but he dared not blink, fearing that he would loose sight of what he saw. But what he saw was blurry images, that somewhat resembled figures that seemed to spark something in his memory, but the thread was to thin to catch hold of.
He knew that something terrible had happened: knew that he wasn't where he was supposed to be, and he knew that he had left many behind. But all he knew of them was that they resembled the blurry figures in his line of sight. He wished he could remember. Reaching out in his mind, he caught hold of the fragile thread, and remembered for an instant what had happened. But to soon the memories were lost. With a sickening snap the thread of memory broke.
Boone was falling.
THE END