Connected

Prologue

Supposed you could foresee your own death, what will you do?

In this matter you really are only given two choices. Either you go along with the flow or fight it. Fight for the life that was never yours to begin with.

Not mine. Preposterous, you might think.

But think about it how can you call something that is yours when you aren't even sure of its fundamentals. Like why I was given life, why was I formed this way, what is the meaning of my existence and the sort.

If we don't have a sure answer to these questions, then doesn't it show our ignorance of it and therefore signifies our lack of control with it. 

Or do you lean on the cap out that says everything happened to be just so. There's no reason for life.

"As no one has power over the wind to contain it, so no one has power over the time of their death," so the wise teacher had written.

Death. You can't outrun it, nor you can outwit it. A man can only hope that when his hour is up, his meager life has somewhat fulfilled a purpose he can make peace with it. 

However, death as they say is like an adroit thief. Always masterminding on how to make a grand entrance that it relishes to catch you vulnerably unguarded for its coming.

Stopping death. It's one of the many pursuits of the human mind taking so much inspiration in the human heart that maybe it was put there because man wasn't meant for the land of the dead. But on the land of the living.

A story was once read into her hearing. It's about death, how it was ultimately defeated. There's now hope of life even in the arms of death. Its fingers having been crushed to clutch you into its bosom that you could be set free from its hold. If only you accept the victor's hand.

Of course, Leah knew this was only a story passed through the ages. Supposed to help you see light in the darkness. A sense of life in the land of despair.

Yet sometimes stories can also be true, right?

Before, she thought she'd welcome death like a long-awaited friend when it'll come for her. After hearing their voices though, their side of the coin, she couldn't help but want it after all. Life and the power of resurrection.

Fear, maybe it was the prelude, the sign that death was already on her heels. It had been shadowing her for quite some time encapsulating her in a bubble of sleep deprivation and tension. 

In fact, people around her have started noticing its immerging fingertips and questions of concern bombarded her to which she had always promptly answered with an "I'm perfectly fine," statement.

Liar.

The truth was fear had been feasting on her to the point where she was no longer sure how much of herself, she could still recognize. If only she could have just been honest and reached out for help, then this dreadful hour could have been handled better.

"Leah," Frank called as soon as she got in her office that morning. He sounded so cheerful and light. It made Leah envious. She wanted to be happy too, especially today. "Wait is that . . . ah, yes I can faintly hear the church bells ringing."

Leah exaggerated the drawing in of air. "No! Are you sure? This is quite alarming, Frank. I know it's not yet for years but is old age already starting to make you hear things?" She teased hoping to lead him away from what she knows he is about to ask.

Frank ignored her remark with a grunt. "Leah, when will you start to re-consider your decision?" He asked anyway and his question was like a bullet fired to her chest.