I hav not had the time to correct the text yet!!

"As I walk through the valley of the shadows of death"

"As i walk through the walley of the shadows of death..." The sentence
rings in her head like an echo. "whats happening to me?" she asks the question
out in the air. Air? First now she realizes that she's not breathing. She can
feel the fear come creeping up her spine, flushing over her head like ice cold
water. I'm drowning! the thought hits her like lightning. But shes not
drowning, at least not in water. Once again she tryes to breath, but no use.
She can feel that her lungs fills up, but not with air, and not with water.

"I shall fear no evil" The voice in her head sounds clearer now. Like the
person who is speaking to her, stands right beside her. Whispering into her
ear. The voice is chanting, and suddenly, she can hear cryes, or is it
laughter? Her dad always told her that the sound people heard when they had a
near death experience was laughter. Childrens laughter.
"Am I dying?" she ask herself. She searches her mind for memories. Memories
from a possible accident, a mugging or maybe she has been raped? But no. No
memories is anywhere to be found. Only small pictures flashes in front of her
eyes. Pictures of her, standing on a cliff looking down into the water far, far
beneth her.
The greate Atlantic Ocean. The wind starts blowing. She reamembers now. The
wind started blowing, and she wanted to leave. She reamembers taking a stepp
back. Turning around, and her father, walking towards her. Walkin and walkin.
Grabbing her hand and dragging her screaming over the cliff. She reamember her
dads last sentence. " Come my dear, lets hear the laughter"

"Cause God is with me" Tears fill her eyes, but shes not crying. She
cant, shes not there.
Only her body is. She want to go back. Want to scream "I'm right here" cant u
see I'm still alive?"
But the priest ceeps chanting, and the people ceep on crying, She can hear
them clearly now. From where shes lying she can perfectly hear the choir of
sad, crushed voices, singing to her memory. Her memory, and her fathers.

Short story by MoonChild
Read 823 times
Written on 2005-09-15 at 20:23

Tags Cold 

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text