Requiem

Peace

That was the definition of true peace.

Rain in a cold November night.

A place between unconsciousness and life, where thoughts, as light as feathers, registered in some remote corner of his mind, too far away to perturb. What felt like another dimension.

No, one's attention was on the void, a lack of images, sounds, ideas, emotions. Neither a place. Like floating on an inexistent ocean.

That was peace.

The warmth a room on fire. Ashes.

A steady breath.

A smell of powder. Pain and blood. Darkness.

Time passed but there was no need to attain, to live. Existence itself seemed a choice, meant to be rejected.

Wine red as blood. Broken glass on the ground.

Such was peace, one forgotten so long ago. And the silence.

All to perish eventually.

The process was slow and steady, like an ocean preparing to receive a storm. Ideas turning from teardrops to streams. And voices.

And scenarios.

'What is your name?' 'My name is Otto, my name is Hans...'

'... all humans are equal... death.'

'Hello, mother.'

One shot, then another, and another. A terrified look, and the sound of rain. The dark skies above.

'Good luck, detective.'

'I'll smother you with tones of flowers!' And then, childish laugh.

Intention failed in rejecting them and all that was left to do was endure, there, in the eye of the storm, the collision of times.

Make it stop.

'You're wrong.'

Please make it stop.

All of a sudden, the sight of a wasteland, the familiarity of it. Gray, barren land swept by the furious wind. The timid sunlight coming from nowhere. And the feeling... the heart-sinking feeling of solitude.

'Many people died. Me and Anna were the only two people left in the entire world.'

But Anna left. Only solitude remains.

All alone.

And all that was left, darkness, a welcoming sight.