The whir of the machine, then the silence as the nurse switches it off. I peer up at the circle of faces around my bed, concern and grief and, in one case, repulsion.
I feel myself floating, entirely aware. My individuality seems intact, though I can tell even now it is beginning to dissolve at the edges.
This is not what I’d thought it would be. There is no tunnel of light, no line of predecessors waiting to greet me. But neither is there an emptiness. The world is still there, going on without me while I look on, detached.
No comment.
Oy. Forever and ever? Just–detached and watching, as if you’ve never been? Chilling.
I like how this one feels like the continuation of the first 😉
only the memory remains, which will soon fade, like this, its how i imagine things to be
Interesting. I wonder what it’s really like. But it’ll be too late to write about it.
World moves on as it always has, with our without us. May be people you are expecting to line up and welcome you, got delayed for some reason. Nice post.
Breathtaking!?
I do hope death is a little more exciting than this detached, no welcoming-party version.
Yikes. Grim story – gives me goose-bumps. You build the mood very well.
well this is depressing (but I like it).
Great build-up. Yikes!