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It Gets Worse

by David Ulnar-Slew




I look down as I fall. The water is a wall of gray-green ripples. It reminds me of the blankets of my bed as a child. What an odd thought as I drop. It isn't very profound or very fearful. One would expect something of more substance to be evident right before impact. It seems extremely random. My expectation for this was so much more. I cannot truly feign surprise at this; disappointment and I are old friends at this point. The impending collision will clear my mind of such ephemeral thoughts anyway. Somehow I turned in the air and I am going to strike feet first. I may live through this initially and drown after the fact. That suits me just fine.

The crash doesn't hurt as much as you'd expect. The anticipation is worse than the event. There is an odd dichotomy the moment after you break the plane of the water. The injury is horrific, but then you are weightless for a moment as the water holds you. Movement isn't an option so you drift down. The optical effect of the sun shining down into the water is calming. It is more peace than I have felt since the accident. A part of me would like to perpetuate that this is me ending it to be together with my little girl. That would be bullshit of the highest order! I just don't want to trudge on without her. It is as much malaise as passion which drove me to this. So I sink and draw the water deeply into my lungs. My chest burns as survival reflexes I have no interest in fight the end. Everything gets very bright then begins to grow dark. I imagine something grabs my shoulder. Sharp teeth or claws pierce the flesh. It really is odd the things that cross the mind at the end.

I see nothing. I hear much. Voices are everywhere. They speak something archaic and dark at first. It is as much hissing as it is words. It sounds strange and makes me uncomfortable. I probably should be more concerned that I am hearing but not seeing or feeling anything. Neither of those things seem to bother me at all. The voices fill me with dread. Words I understand start being interspaced into the gibberish. Moments later I understand the words but not the syntax. Many voices scream one over another. One voice overpowers the others.

"SILENCE!" The tone is booming and cavernous, yet also strangely has a hissed quality.

The other voices stop immediately. The silence is so abrupt in comparison that the atmosphere seems affected.

"DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOU ARE, MAN?"

I try to speak and nothing happens.

"DO NOT SPEAK IT, FOOL. THINK IT."

The thoughts flow out of me. "I have no idea where I am. Hopefully I am dead. Whoever you are, let me go. I don't want this."

"YOU WILL SOON FIND THAT WHAT YOU WANT IS OF VERY LITTLE CONSEQUENCE FROM NOW ON."

"Go to hell. I am done. Stop playing games."

"HELL? WOULD THAT I COULD. I WOULD VERY MUCH LIKE IF YOUR HUMAN HELL EXISTED. I WOULD RULE THERE QUITE HAPPILY. I WILL HAVE TO JUST SETTLE FOR YOUR WORLD AS THAT REALLY EXISTS."

"That sounds quite dire indeed. Good luck with that. Now screw off! I want to be done."

"NO. I THINK NOT. YOU SACRIFICED YOURSELF TO ME. YOU OPENED DEATH'S DOOR ABOVE ONE OF MY SACRED CIRCLES. MY MINIONS BROUGHT YOU TO ME. YOU ARE MINE."

"I jumped off a bridge because I no longer want to live. I am sick of pain and regret. I want nothing more than to cease."

"THE MISTAKE YOU MADE WAS THE LOCATION. ANYTHING WHICH DIES THERE IS MINE. YOU WILL LIVE AGAIN. YOU WILL BE POWERFUL. YOU WILL BE YOUR OWN UNTIL I REQUIRE YOU. WHEN I CALL, YOU WILL COME. TILL THEN YOU WILL NOT KNOW DEATH. GO BACK NOW AND WAIT FOR YOUR MASTER TO CALL YOU, SERVANT."

The blackness of nothing returned. I woke on a beach. Water rushed up my throat and shot onto the sand. I looked around. No one was near. I jumped from the Golden Gate. I was not near San Francisco, that was evident. I don't even think I was in California. I pushed myself up from the sand. I saw activity in the direction away from the ocean at my back. I walked towards what I assumed was civilization. Eventually I came to pavement. It was early and not many people were out and about. I saw a great big man with Polynesian features walking a small dog in my direction.

"Excuse me? Where am I?"

"You are on the beach for Paradise Acres."

"No, I am sorry. I meant what town or what State?"

"Wow, bruddah. You must have been real drunk. Dis is Hawaii!" He kept walking, giving a little laugh as he passed.

Apparently my new master wanted to make sure I knew that our meeting had really occurred and had not been a figment of my drowning mind. What better way than to drop me over two thousand nautical miles away from where I tried to die. I would say it was another chance at life, but there was the suspicion that the voice in the dark had done me no favors.


THE END


© 2014 David Ulnar-Slew

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