In the Sleep of Death
Your head explodes, in an agony quickly given over to pleasure. You are floating, along a sea, immersed in a fluid that rushes with you even as it rushes through you. You see nothing but the stream, an expanse of darkness beyond. Her voice speaks “She liked you, though she didn’t know why.” It is The Lady, her body pierced in the stomach, bleeding, as she glides along beside you, the river growing red with her blood. “We will all be drawn to you” another familiar voice says, and to your left Priya is there – her empty eyes gazing into the void. She turns to you, placing a hand onto your chest – meeting some hesitation in the ether an inch above the flesh before finally resting on your skin. “I died without meaning, guided by impulses, is it what you call fate?” The ripples of blood pool around you, as the Lady speaks “Man calls himself free, but bleeds for the passion of a whim.” She smiles, and places her hand on your back, opposite Priya’s. Priya says “in that moment, life ends in a whimper, being becomes nothing.” They move their hands in unison, on opposite ends of your form “Blood remembers, blood returns to its own” whispers Priya, “know your name, and you return to immortality” whispers The Lady. With that they push together their hands, meeting inside your body – you scream in agony, and awaken.