Being Alive

Decaying leaves make shadows in the mist as she walks along a path covered with roots and crevices.

At her breast a baby clings to her, and a light beckons her forward.

The path weaves hours into days and days into years.

Yet the light calls her through the fog that grows thicker with every step.

For a moment the light shines bright enough to make out her figure.

Her tall body is clothed with a dress that has been torn by a million bare branches that have clawed at her for years.

What appeared to be a child is actually a huge black rat, eating flesh, and causing blood to stream down her body.

In an instant the light disappears.

She flings the rat to the ground, and screams.

Then she runs towards the spot where the light was, leaves falling around her, and the now naked branches cutting her anew.

The mist parts and a wall stands before her.

Hundreds of yards high, the light shines again over the top of the stone obstacle.

She climbs, falls, and the climbs again.

After failing countless times, she finally reaches the top, and sees it.

Hundreds of feet below a dark pool reflects the light of a fire brighter than the sun, and taller than a mountain.

In an instant her mind is made, and she plummets towards the pool, like the few who had come before.

The very few that were dancing around the fire.

The few who were laughing and crying at the same time.

The few who took the plunge, and found the fire.

The few who know what it feels like to truly live, and not merely to be alive.