Dead At Three

Chapter 2: Black and White

Chapter 2:

Black and White

I always thought about the different ways my own self stupidity would consult to my death. It seemed that I was always a bit odder in the head than others. Even though I tried to ignore it there remained a little voice at the back of my head reminding me of dark things that came to my fascination.

How do you move on from yourself? How do you push away the demon you were born with? I didn’t know how and so I tried to change myself with the help of Pace. I’m greedy. I’m wicked. I’m despicable. Maybe that’s why my fate was to die so young.

My mind still perpetuated as I began to crumble inside by the never ending waterfall, tumbling down the pipe from my mouth and down to every part of my body. I could feel myself constricting. I could feel time slowing down. And suddenly, by a miracle, I began to lift upwards by an unknown force.

At first it felt as if I was being raised to the heavens, but when my toes curled around the moist and soft like substance which I concluded must have been sand, I knew I was somewhere else. Perhaps I had drifted on shore?

You're wrong, the angel plunged in the pit of my mind stated solemnly, you are so wrong.

And it felt wrong. The wind wasn't blowing. It wasn't hot or cold; no temperature I could feel and react too physically. When my eyes had slowly parted, the dark haze which struck my gaze first held nothing as such of stars or moon. It was an everlasting black sky which twisted in perfectly with a dull, magnificent blue. There was no sound that could coax me into believing I was still on Earth. But I was somewhere. And for some reason the word 'heaven' didn't seem right.

The slow movement of the lake beneath me set my mind at peace. I was utterly terrified of being swallowed into its deep abyss once more, but it felt useless to try and escape. As I allowed myself to be engulfed into the gloomy waterhole like once before, the tiny shriek at the back of my mind brought me back to my senses.

My hands reached out to find anything to hold onto, anything that could pull me out of my trance. I wasn’t acting like myself. I had to get out. I was being haunted by the place of my death. Finally my fingers wrapped around a smooth object; a stone. Slowly, I began to move small parts of my body, testing whether or not I really was alive. When the constriction inside of me began to fade I was able to move around more freely. As carefully as I could I turned my head to the side to be greeted by the shore. The sudden sense of freedom had me up right within seconds. Freedom from death. Freedom from fear.

When I was finally able to stand up I walked hesitantly towards the wet sand. Something was off. It was definitely the Pisa Lake, but it felt as if time had practically flown by years while I was under for those few minutes. From what I could carry, everything was completely and utterly dead. The silver tinted trees with its curled up, yellow leaves on the floor twisted its branches into another, tall and gaunt enough to make me feel uncomfortable. With the darkness above there was hardly anything to catch a good glimpse of. The scenery, the blackening trees, the dying and patchy grass and the silence in the air gave off a grim vibe. It felt as though everything had been completely washed of its color and left to rot; just like I was.

 I didn’t fear the place. I didn’t fear the intimidating dark forest that looked down on me, as if snickering shadows were lurking behind each large trunk, waiting to paralyze me at the right moment. I didn’t fear the dullness or the dark. The only reason I could think of was because I felt that way. I could relate to the deep dark ditch that I could never seem to escape. Instead of having to carry it around with me it felt as if I was wondering into my soul at the very moment, and the scenery around me was conjured up by what I constantly felt.