Not Ready

Not Ready

They say when you're about to die, your life flashes by your eyes. It didn't happen to me though.

I think I already had too much in mind and my brain decided to give me a break.

The cold, however, did reach my body and hugged me with its freezing embrace as my blood stopped running and my heart stopped beating.

As my limbs and muscles gave in, the cold subsided and was replaced by a floating sensation, it felt good, peaceful even. Added to the image transmitted through my eyes to my weak-working brain.

My orientation was damaged even though the strong-green treetops linked with the flowing bluish river and the flying clouds above me reached my eyes.

I could hear nothing except running water close to my ear, deafening my dying-self.

The smell of citric fruits and sweet flowers filled my lungs and I finally realized, through shaking thoughts, my mind was playing tricks on me. It had teleported me to my most dearest memory and I hadn't even noticed.

My mind had sympathetically transported me to a peaceful place to fall into my endless sleep instead of the burning chaos that daily killed thousands of us. That constantly shred our dreams and shed our tears.

A last tear fell on my delicate cheek and my whole body was covered with a blanket of numbness. However, I could feel a sob climbing up my throat and threatening to come out; my mouth, stubbornly shut, trembled.

But there was still voice to be shouted at the dark, melodies to be heard aimlessly, sights to take our breath away and scents to infiltrate our nostrils.

"I'm not ready."