Between
Two Worlds
by Lucian-Dragos Bogdan
The sun was descending tired at the back of the hills. The brook gently
whispered
in the purple light
spread around the apricot trees by the evening breeze.
In the fading light Ian was digging the dried land in the vine
– his gray
hair stuck
to his sweating
forehead.
He would only have that piece of land for that day; after all
there’s
always a tomorrow.
Behind him stood the old house to which he was bound by lifetime
memories.
His
lady definitely had
the dinner ready and was now quietly crocheting, waiting for his return.
He would have come
smiling, sat at the table and start to eat while she would tell stories
with their neighbor
in front of the house. He would listen to her, mumbling
something
from
time to time, then
he would light his pipe and sit on the rolling chair in front of the
chimney.
He stood up
His heart was broke in two by a lightning. The world started to spin
faster
and
faster in a hell of
a dance. Trees-vine-flowers-house-brook-trees-vine-flowers…
*
* *
He was flying to the skies like a feather. He was not afraid.
He looked down: a crouched body with gray hair stood beneath a broken
tail
hoe…
He was flying higher and higher till the sky turned blue and then black.
He slowly touched the stone ground with his feet. He looked around: it
was an
endless tunnel with
a strange phosphoric shade – or was it just his imagination?
– in the
dark
He was surprised but didn’t get scared.
He started walking, barely touching the ground, and had the feeling of
a
motionless time. It
was like the seconds refused to pass away there, lazy staying
– in a
gigantic hourglass
perhaps? – in the dark. His thoughts flied away while he
walked –
looking for the
second’s
sand in the hourglass? the source of that phosphoric shade? the
end of the tunnel?
– and there were only few remaining to live with him when he
arrived
at a darker than
hell
abyss.
He stopped.
The light was turning brighter more and more each moment. When he
located
the
source it seemed
like
a gigantic sphere on the other side of the abyss. He could vaguely
discern delusive
headless
humanoid forms in it.
- Welcome…, he heard a voice springing from each cell of
what was left
of him.
That voice gave him a confidence of passing the abyss in a gentle flow
without
any fear of
falling.
He took a step forward.
- Who are you?
He wasn’t speaking he just made the air vibrate. The light
sparkled.
- Come… Here you will find the answer to any
question…
Ian slipped forward; then something inside him – what was it
considering
the fact
that nothing
composed
him anymore? one of the thoughts still hanging over his mind?
–
tried to focus. He
sank a bit into the abyss – or was it just his effort of
pulling himself
together?
– but it
all went off suddenly. He wasn’t something individual with
specific
feelings; what was
all around lived through him and he was living for all those things
around him.
Behind the light there was a shiver and the bliss got him once more in
its arms.
He slipped some
more,
than stopped.
- Are you God?
- I am what I am …
Silence…
Ian tried to gather inside him the abyss. Far away, deep down there,
Something
lived. Something
not
to be understood. It was a strange feeling of something very familiar
and yet out of any
meaning – or was he confused only because he
couldn’t pull himself
together?
- Is it the Hell in this abyss?
- There lives what it lives, too …
Half way crossing the abyss he was trying more and more to focus on some
thoughts and that
made him – obviously this time – to descend beyond
the other shore.
The sphere of light
stood kind of hunchbacked in front and over him, in an impossible
perspective
– if his
physics knowledge were right.
His physics knowledge…
The idea of comparing that thing with the common reality seemed a
nonsense
there but it was on
hid mind. He grabbed the idea. Almost immediately in front of his so
called eyes
appeared
his lady shouting teary questions into the void. “What am I
going to
do without you,
Ian?”
“How am I going to live without you. Ian?”
“Why should I live without you, Ian?”
He was Ian.
He could hardly notice the light like a coronation of a tall and abrupt
shore.
The peace didn’t leave him even though he betrayed it by his
thoughts.
He was
gathering around
his
thoughts as his lady did with a ball of wool. With all his struggling he
could feel the
light
he only remembered now was still there, protecting him and patiently
waiting.
That fall into the abyss made his incoming ideas to become less
abstractive.
- You are dead… You had a heart attack… There is
nothing to be done so
that
you can get your
old
body…
- If you are really God you can make miracles… I ask you
– no, I beg you
– make
my heart whole
again
and let me return to my lady!
He was falling deeper and deeper into who-knows-what.
- My powers are nameless… My doings cannot be justified by
your belief…
They
are as simple as
you
could not imagine and yet more complicated than you could ever
understand
…
- What do you mean?
- There is an unbreakable flow… You cannot be what you used
to called Ian
again
…
The ball of thoughts was strong enough to do hard judging –
the usual way
his
tough life taught
him to.
- What will happen to me then? I don’t want to come by your
side; not yet…
I only
want to be with my
lady. Will you send me into the fires of Hell for that?
- Don’t name what you not know …
Those were the last words he could hear. The link stopped suddenly
– so
suddenly that for
a moment he was filled with an enormous void, but his thoughts took care
of him and filled
it – and he knew the light wasn’t there anymore. It
had left him, no
explanation, not
saying
what was up for him.
Was it to fall into the fires of Hell? The words with many meaning
couldn’t
give him
an answer for what
was down there.
Was it worthy of meeting his lady again?
What was that flowing?
*
* *
Before him stood his lady. She was silently crying – her back
turned to
him – over
a grave with a simple
wood cross emerging form the bed of flowers.
The divine power made him whole again… His wish was granted.
He wasn’t
sure
if
it was for that
light or was it only his will that made that possible.
What was it then the thing he meant? He remembered reading somewhere
that
in the case of clinical
death the brain gets no more oxygen and that can cause the
hallucination of a
light ending tunnel. Some specialist said that visions were possible in
such moments.
He was still feeling like flowing but he didn’t pay attention
to that;
he was so happy
to meat his lady one
more time.
He approached in a nameless waltz – just like he did on their
wedding day,
a long
time ago – blinded
by happiness.
His lady…
Preparing the dinner and than quietly crocheting while waiting for him
…
He arriving with a smile and sitting at the table, starting to eat
…
His lady telling him the stories with the neighbor in front of the
house
…
He listening and lazilyweaving his head, mumbling from time to time
like
he was
paying attention…
He lightening his pipe and sitting on the rolling chair in front of the
chimney…
His lady…
His lady…
His lady was getting bigger in front of his love-speaking
eyes…
She was getting bigger …
Bigger…
She was closer each moment …
Splat!
- God damn you, stupid flies, can’t you leave me alone?
Everything turned dark.
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