FLOTSAM

This was written at a Writer's Retreat we held at the ranch. We had one-half hour to take the first paragraph and complete the story. I sure got in touch with my dark side.

FLOTSAM

          It was a sunny Sunday and the normal profusion of winter snowbirds was overflowing churches and lengthening lines in restaurants – the kind of cool day that should have invigorated life and filled souls with a breath of rejuvenation. Little did I suspect the outcome would be extremely different.

          I had begun to cross Grand and 1st Avenue when I heard the screeching of tires. I almost had time to look around before I felt the impact – almost. That was the last thing I remembered until a nurse punctured my arm with a hypodermic needle. I awoke with the prick, but immediately drifted back into the swirling whirlpool of vivid color that sucked all reason from my brain.

          Floating ephemerally through space, I visited the world as once I knew it, hoping that someone would know my name and tell me where I was. However, everyone I thought I knew ignored me and watched as I drifted past, not even acknowledging my presence.

          Instead of returning to normalcy, my universe kept expanding like some balloon ready to explode. Through light and darkness, past planets and nebulae, I drifted awash of reality with no anchor to throw to halt my progress.

          Time seemed to be racing at a pace I couldn't maintain. I saw clocks turning at twice their normal speed and day and night occurred faster than I could catalog the details.

          And then it stopped – suddenly, without warning – and darkness filled the universe. There was no star or moonbeam to guide my path; no light to drift toward and no sound to attract me – only silence and darkness.

          How long I remained in that state I can not fathom, but it was an eternity of nothingness that obliterated even my own thoughts. Absolute terror gripped my soul, dragging me into an endless void. I had no choice but to surrender to its magnetic grasp which clutched me in an enduring embrace – and surrender I did.

          When I look back now, I marvel at the process. It was nothing like the stories I'd read. It was not comforting and I did not surrender easily. Life is a progression of events, some happy and some sad, but dying was pure hell. There was no one to greet me, no light to guide my way or voice to console my fears. The worst of life was nothing compared to this.

          This death was a rushing, fleeting journey into nothingness. Where was the hope I had been promised, the golden roads and the gates of pearl. Nothing but lies. And then nothingness. Oh death where is thy sting? It is here. It is the event. And the saddest part is that you can't even join me. We are but flotsam in an expanding universe too vast to ever meet again.