Infernal

It was silent. Doesn’t take much at all.

One second a man is in the mysteriousness of shaving. Looking deeply past the mirror. Drinking his silky ghost of Jadot from a simple glass when his light begins to shiver.  A suddenness of sound.

He knows he is dead.

 Spring now becomes a zealous monster. The fire of forsythia, which he loved too well, now turns to dust in his mind. The crocuses too are aborted. His eyes are crowned in white as he looks out past the only room he has ever known.  A warm trail runs in a rusty red stream over his cheek.

 Outside, he hears the children screaming. Dancing in the warm afternoon sun. Inside, he lies dying; smiling into pain. Crawling towards heaven with a disdain for thirst; yet his tongue begins to grow. Won’t be long now. He knows.

Then something enters the room:

His mind, busy with death forgives him. Angels gather round and he dreams about the sounds of water. 

In a stream of his youth he recalls a moment he should have loved more. But at the end all we can do is forgive ourselves and then,  there is silence.

Doesn't take much at all. A sudden sound and the afternoon sun shines down in shadows. He stares into the mirror. Another sip of Jadot as his beard continues.

Reviews

[Leica]

when we feel as if there is no more..there is..
short write yet it contained enough emotion and thought that no more need be said.... really enjoyed this piece, it also leaves me smiling..

[Priscilla Sayers]

I like the complexity of this piece. You have a way to deepen thoughts and cause one to dig deeper for their own perception. You have always been such a brilliant writer, and remain to rise with amazing concepts to keep me on my toes.;) great write!

[Perdition]

Yet still, as the morning sun will mirror, you rise to each occasion. Thanks Canvas.
Good to have your words back.

[Priscilla Sayers]

Thank you Buddy;)

[anamezic]

Beautiful, I've had moments like this; caught up in a reality that's nothing at all. Too often my mind flits to death and back again in slightly worse shape than before.

[Perdition]

Odd (and sad) how "nothing" is something that can run so much deeper than those moments that we carry forever. In that subtle loss of meaning we see/feel a horrific reminder for how we so easily take it all for granted and continue to exist a mere few inches below the skin....mostly out of fear but never the less watching as our lives pass us by without even the slightest of recognition or ceremony. Anyway..Thanks~

[Kristallo]

An intense and enlightening glimpse into the moments preceding finality; and of the darkness itself. It reeks of quiet isolation and a sardonic eagerness to seek the end of this journey (our only friend, the end.) :P Hopefully there is peace to be had when the ego abandons the soul, in that ethereal shelter we all dream of...

His mind, busy with death forgives him. Angels gather round and he dreams about the sounds of water.
In a stream of his youth he recalls a moment he should have loved more. But at the end all we can do is forgive ourselves and then, there is silence.

This section in particular had me quite moved. Have you ever wondered what your final thought/memory might be in the cusp of your passing? It seems at times that the most insignificant things can haunt a person.. or save them... This piece was completely enthralling, read it several times through, and I found myself so absorbed in your quiet scene.... Great work. :)

[Perdition]

Well thats does it. I'm downloading Skype so that we can finalize the details of our "Ninth Gate Tower" and its cache of hemlock hidden within the folds of your greatest poems . Or perhaps "A Night of Schizophrenia" Thanks wondrous one.

[Kristallo]

I look forward to that!

[Tara]

wow. what the hell has happened to you? Carl gets all the credit for this? You are a new writer. I am astounded. I absolutely love this. Your voice is soooo different. You are doing it to me again...gotta get a damn pen.

[Perdition]

I'll share mine if you replace the ink...as well as the words ; )