Conflict of souls

The void... The void in my life had reached a point of no return; it was so profound, embedded in the very fabric of my being, that often I suffocated. I needed help and tried everything I knew, from therapy to yoga; nothing worked without forgetting hypnosis and meditation. I hadn't yet tried medication because I wanted a natural solution, one linked with nature, with the laws connected to this planet, unaltered, still carrying a sense of purity.

It was why I was walking in the woods at night; I crave new sensations that would come from a unique environment. I needed to reconnect with the roots of my past, or more precisely, I needed to go deeper into my soul, to reconnect with a long-forgotten past where one lay exposed to nature's laws constantly. I needed to feel alive!

I thought of all the people who feel empty inside, even dead, no more will or volition, passing through life with the motions alone. No! How I think this way, not the others, I have to stop projecting my feelings onto others, pretending they do not come from me. I can't truly experience what someone else feels; I have no empathy, what I have, are problems I need to face head-on. I strengthened my resolve and was gripped with a cold blast that infiltrated all the pores of my soul if such a thing existed. It was hard to explain and describe; all I was left afterward was a glacial sensation that soon reached my feelings. I felt how the cold tore them apart, breaking the flow that allowed life to circulate, destroying the unity that allowed all my functions to keep me alive. There were no doubts to be had, no questions as to what would come next, no disbelief as to what all this would lead to; I was dying.

I always hoped to die easily, or at the very least, quickly. I was denied both. I was conscious the whole time the first wave hit; it cracked my cells in two, depressurizing the life they contained, dispersing it to the exterior world. They no longer belonged to my entity; they were absorbed by someone else. The pain was excruciating because, at the same time, parts of you fight this future, and they try all their knowledge and ability to make it not real. My inner combatant was activated to its maximum to prevent that end but to stay alive meant to be able to take the pain. Before the finality of this fate, I was alive and, the strength of the past clung to that reality with one final act of desperation and, it seemed only pain had the power to maintain its viability. Unfortunately, the agony was too much, and every second ticking dragged me further toward the eternal slumber.

The sucking sensation that followed next was more potent than anything I experienced before; it truly teleported me into another dimension, one where I did not exist.

Darkness reigned in absolute master, and I was compelled by pulsions and impulsions to move, to hit something. I tried to the best of my abilities to respond to the demand and kept continuously hitting a wall, yet I needed to pierce the obstacles preventing me from reaching my destination; it was a matter of life or death. Finally, the exterior membrane connecting to a suffocating shell broke and, a piercing ray of light burned my pupils; the heat traveled and activated my vision. I could see!

The rest went by so fast it was hard to keep up; the intensity was so strong, making it impossible to think it couldn't be real. Images fleeted before I downloaded at full speed, and I was trapped bearing all the sequence with no say. I was not the master but the receptacle who had to endure. The anticipation and fear of how long it would possess me was the only thing that came from me.

I felt the air in my throat, but it was not to breathe. Instead, it was to ram earth and writhing debris. How deep in the decomposition process had I reached because every remaining fiber of what was once me enjoyed both the taste and the effect on my stomach. It tasted like food nutrients, vital to move on to the next step.

The strenuous efforts that followed seemed to lead to one goal, grow up. The determination and resolve to do so animated all my cells, and I felt myself getting bigger and stronger. At that very moment, the future seemed bright.

The void again, a satisfying one, even agreeable and uplifting. How many of my cells had detached from the main body to experience such a euphoric soaring impression; it was better than floating, more real because I was in control, I was in charge, I was making it happen. I was flying to my next destination, and it was the best feeling in the world. How ironic that it preceded the worst one.

Before being struck down by a wave of destruction so intense it shattered all my will and strength to go on, I benefited from a few seconds of a sentiment of a life well-lived. I hung on to that memory to bear the following sequence of events meant for only one thing, destruction.

I was floating, diving down toward the ground when I was ripped open by a sharp projectile. The shock was violent and left no chance for anything else than to drop at high velocity on the earth, and the trauma shattered my bones. I felt life seep out of me, and I was no more. I wanted to scream, to express my despair, but the situation stifled all expression at the base.

A breath, a heartbeat, blood flowing in my veins again, how could this be possible? I had died over and over again, or so it seemed, could this be the afterlife? If it were, it would have been a bad joke because it was so similar to the world I had departed! It was a carbon copy!

I was shivering, shaking even, from the downpour of emotions caused by my encounter, and it took a while to recognize where I was. It was the forest. The trees were still majestically standing, and I could see my tracks in the white carpet of snow. I hadn't jumped to another dimension. As I became more aware, I was reassured by the familiarity of the place, on high alert of what had caused this traumatic episode. What was the source that had provoked what could easily be called an attack? It was a mystery I had to elucidate, for I could never believe it was a dream.

I looked in all directions; left, right, up, and down. Down was the answer. There it lay, barely covered by the snow, a puddle of blood right next to it. It was a superb specimen, a dead specimen. The barn owl had died with all the dignity it could keep with the killing bullet still lodged in its lungs. It looked peaceful, but I knew that was a lie. I had experimented first hand with its death.

I took comfort remembering as it had pierced its shell and came to be on this planet; I cherished all the memories of flying it had shared, and I mostly didn't forget its last truth as it took its last breath, the belief it had led a good life.

Tears were running down my cheeks as I gave him a proper burial, and although the exchange had been excruciatingly painful, I thanked him. It had served one purpose, I no longer felt empty. I had filled a void, and I would live the rest of my life with the belief I had also found a friend. Part of him still lived, if only in me.