Featured Fragment
THE LAST WORD
Somehow, I know I’m dead.
I never thought that was something you could know, but it just feels different. I can’t describe the feeling. Not quite a dream, but the memory of a dream. I vaguely remember a crash. Excruciating pain. But it was short. And it’s gone now. I look to my hands, but I can’t quite be sure they’re there. I don’t know if I’m stood up or lying down. It all seems unimportant.
All around me is darkness. Not infinite black, but the finite, comforting kind like hiding under a thick duvet on a cold morning. The black seems to have a texture to it. A weave and a weft. Imperceptible gaps in the fabric.
I lean in. Or at least what feels like leaning. The darkness becomes more defined. Specs of white become clear between the void and it seems that the black is formed from familiar shapes. They are minuscule. Compressed together. Line on top of line. I squint and cannot stop myself from reading, “…equal equidistant foods; a man, though free to choose, would starve to death before…”
