False Departure

It's awkward how you can be so alive, so free in one instant, yet so cold and dead the next. You'll never see your own death coming, or will you? Some believe the biological clock ticks and you are aware of when you will die, others say the opposite.

I was driving to nowhere. There was nothing around besides dust and gravel. The road was poorly outlined. I had no idea where I was, or where I wanted to be. I slid the car to a stop, and waited for the dust to settle before opening the door. I began to get out, but stopped.

What was I going to do? Ask the dirt what I should do with myself? I'm not so sure what my problem is anyway, and there's nothing to tell me how to begin to find out.

So I rested my head on the back of the seat. When I looked into the sky, miles ahead of my tired automobile, I saw vultures. They flew in silent circles, eying their lifeless meal.

Then, I thought 'What if I drew my last breath?'

To most, the thought seems arrogant and exaggerated, planned even, but at that moment I felt like I was beginning to drift softly, easily at first. Then I experienced such an uncomfortable burning sensation deep underneath my ribs, as if I were set on fire from the inside. As soon as I thought it was beginning to subside, I felt the last bit of oxygen abandon my weary lungs.

I lay in my car in that breathless state for the longest seconds anyone could ever encounter. My lungs were empty and even the strongest effort could not force the smallest amount of air into them. In that instant, I died.

Every bad experience, everything I'd ever done wrong infected my mind like a starving parasite. Once the horrid memories melted from every crevice of my horrified mind, I forgot everything. The odyssey I had undergone in an all too short twenty-two years was erased from my brain. I'm sure I even forgot my own name.

I remember feeling as if I were slipping up and out of my body. All I could see was an off-white slowly being eaten by an opaque gray, and my vision was becoming darker and darker by the second. I was losing grip and the pain grew intense, but I'll tell you now, the consumption of darkness becomes gradually more comforting as you are devoured by an overwhelming feeling that you will never go back.

Before I completely fell victim to the abyss, I saw a face. He was indescribable. Nothing could match the beauty and sorrow shown in his glassy eyes. He was not perfect, but he was as close to it as anything could get. A hardly noticed smile swept his features, and then everything was black.

Fourteen hours later I awoke to the beating of wings and irritating cawing. I expected a flock of vultures, but to my disappointment—and its amusement—upon opening my eyes, I was greeted by a lone crow.

Massaging my throbbing temples, I began to remember what I had seen.

To this day, I do not know what to call that happening. I remember it perfectly, as if it were on a movie screen in my mind. In fact, I'm not so sure why it happened, or why I came out of the darkness a mere fourteen hours later, but I know that I wanted to live. I have told no one of anything that happened that afternoon, but if I were to tell, I'd make one thing known. That face was God.