Death: At the Razor’s Edge

I stand alone on the cliff’s edge, staring into an abyss of infinite darkness.

Fear envelops me, gnawing away every ounce of my life. The pounding of my heart resonates in the eerie silence. Hounded by hell, I feel the cold wind strangling my throat. Threatening.

Death beckons.

My knees quiver to the rhythms of the unrelenting wind. Sweat trickles down my ghost-white face.

‘Find your friend’ a voice whispered to me. A distant voice. Hypnotic. A haunting, sad voice.

I nodded.

This was my karma. I had loved him beyond my life . . . beyond my life.

I tried calling out to him, but the cold wind constricted my throat. My voice died. His name died in my throat. I was alone.

Fear hung like a noose around my neck.

My hair stood on its ends, awaiting impending death.

Death: Razor's Edge

‘Where are you going?’ I had asked him. 

‘God’s own country’ he had replied. 


He didn’t reply. He had merely smiled back at me, his deep blue eyes lost in thoughts of a world beyond. 

I had to do it. Light filled my heart. I felt at peace.

I jumped.

The onrushing wind threatened to veer me off-course, but I knew . . .

The moment my head hits the rocks at the bottom of the abyss, and my skull scrunches with the impact, splattering blood onto the crevices . . . I knew there . . . I would reach the lap of God.

The final resting place for a friendship transcending lifetimes. God’s own country.

Just me.

My friend.

And God.



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