It was like waking up from a deep sleep, but shaken into a dream; transitioned from one fantasy

to another. The mind had never been so confused, nor had it ever been at such a synchronized

peace. An eerie light besmeared the vision; the gurgle of the waters served as music. The eyes

could but gaze the vista, mesmerized.

He never knew that death would be so beautiful. The lukewarm stream kept flowing, with him

weightlessly afloat, destined to the unknown. He stared at the translucent brook that cradled him

now. The sparkling elixir hypnotized him to ecstasy. His eyes searched anxiously across the

blurred demarcations.

Drenched in a pool of blood, his body lay in the other world. He stared at the departed center of

his gravity. The vintage smile on his corpse was still intact; for he had never let his agony erode

the curve of his lips. The dagger had jammed his intestines: the final rage of his remorse, the

termination of his expectations, the annihilation of his dreams, his love.

The aged fan squeaked louder than it normally would, perhaps stunned by the thunderous

episode. Death was never a pleasant site to behold. Suicide, he had believed to be an act of

sheer cowardice; but his demise remarked it to be the gutsiest deed in the universe.

The current that bore him kept parting the soul and his past, both wearing uncanny smiles,

though for the same reason, an end and a beginning.