288 A.A. Early Fall, Somewhere
It is Loud. Why? What is that sound?
Rain? Yes it must be. Why?
It is something more to.
But what? Air? Yes. I am moving fast. The wind is deafening. Why? I feel light. Why? I am fly. No. I am floating. No. I am falling. Yes I must be. Why? I must open my eyes. I must
I lazily open my eyes. They are blurry. I blink once, Twice, then one final time. I am on fire. Yet I am cold. I should be worried. Perhaps even scared, yet I am calm. Here amongst the clouds I feel invincible. Like a god even.
I see grey bumps getting larger, Closer. No. Not bumps. Mountains. I estimate sixty seconds. I do not wish to return to the ground. Fifty. Fourtyfive. Twenty five. Ten short years of life. At an end for a reason I cannot complain resend. Ten seconds. I hope I fly in the heavens. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
My vision goes dark. I feel the impact. I am numb. No pain. At least not the kind I expect. Only the pain of no longer being amongst the clouds. Surely I am dead. Somehow I understand I am not. I cannot will myself to move. My conciseness fades. I do not fight it