I knew I was dead. I was not quite sure how or why, I just knew. I had all my wits about me; yet I was dead. I tried to sense where I was. I took a deep breath but could only smell air; thick and suffocating. Nothing felt as it had felt before. Death carried with it an emptiness of my soul; a feeling that there was no depth to my being.
I looked about to find my bearings. The house was dark, however I could see as clearly as if it were the middle of the day. I believed it to be night because I could see the lamps burning brightly. As hard as I thought, I could not remember what had happened. Did I fall into the well drawing water? Was I thrown from my horse? Did I get bitten by a snake? As hard as I tried there was no memory to be found. I could think of a thousand reasons but none felt right. It was not an easy death. I felt no sense of harmony or glory but was filled with dread and darkness. The angels with their tenderness and beauty were nowhere to be found.
I had never heard of someone dead going mad but madness was overtaking me. I wanted to scream but nothing came out. God help me! I held my head within my hands and squeezed as hard as I could. Think, think! No matter how much pressure I put on my head or how hard I begged I could not remember what had happened. The screams. Were they mine? Whose screams pierced my memories and sounded so horrid that I could not forget hearing them?
(More to come)