Time strayed from its usual course and, for a moment, came to stop in the Innocent’s new home. For the wounded youth, it was as if he had lived his entire life in those last few moments. His past no longer existed; his future no longer mattered. All there ever could be, all there ever would be was the youth’s imminent death. As the shadows closed in on the edges of his consciousness, he remembered a fragment from the old world. An image gently floated to the surface of his thoughts like the tattered final plank of a long forgotten shipwreck on the open sea. It was a face, and one of stunning beauty. That beauty spoke a warning, however, “I am mighty; I do not die; I am the consumer of souls and the comforter of kings. I am Vanity. May you leave me in peace or else face my broken heart.” The memory was enveloped and pushed to the side by a lazy reminder that the youth hadn’t much time to live. He was bleeding out, and fast. In a drunken daze, his eyes gravitated to the center of the room; to the fissure. It was still there, and perhaps just wide enough for him to slip through. What else could he do besides waiting for Death to take him on a new journey?
The youth expended precious body energy dragging himself on his blood-soaked belly towards the fissure. Without a second thought, he wedged himself into the crevasse. There was no cement, as is customary with customary structures, but there was some sort of volcanic rock. As the boy fell into the crack, he noticed/imagined a greenish glow emanating from the sides. He squeezed about four feet down when the sides disappeared and he was lost in a descent of blackness, his only companion being his fraying sanity. His fall was cut short by the end of the crevasse. Again, he noticed/imagined the colored glow and used it to help him find a small passage. The passage was so small that in order to squeeze through, he had to receive a long gash in his back. It couldn’t compare to his bullet wounds, but it still sent a pillar of fire up his spine. His entire body cried out in anger for being subjected to this slow, painful fate and it conspired to slow the Innocent’s movements. However, despite his seemingly mortal injuries, he was able to continue his journey. In this foreign/familiar dimension where time and space were both irrelevant and disorienting, willpower appeared to be enough for his dying body to cling to. He crawled on his belly and tried to rescue that old memory/hallucination from the storm of his mind, but to no avail. He was consumed by his longing for escape. Time had slowed to a crawl in this dungeon of sorts, and the Innocent’s thoughts became memories. Those memories became legends and those legends quickly/slowly faded toward oblivion, like wisps of smoke. The youth struggled on and could not tell how long time had continued on without him. The glow left the walls and the thoughts of the Innocent left his mind. His body dredged on for so long, he eventually forgot how long he had been there. There was no sleep, no memory, and certainly no reason to continue.
For some strange reason, he decided the end of the Purgatory-like tunnel would appear soon, so, like a holy man waiting for salvation, he kept pushing onward. Sure enough, he could see a small white light which could have been ten feet or ten kilometers away. After more trekking, the youth approached the light. He could now hear sounds and smell fragrances that stirred old and forgotten memories of the old world. With a newfound energy, he crawled with all his might toward his future. Time regained its meaning as the rays of light glanced across the youth. He emerged from the infinite tunnel into a stream of light and warmth. Gravity lost its worth in this new space and the Innocent drifted upward. It was like being in the ocean, without the heaviness of water or the discomfort of salt. With every passing moment, he got closer and closer to the bright light which had taken precedence in his mind. He looked around and saw beautiful trees as tall as the sky, tunnels as vast as the constellations, and the glorious face which was his only true memory. He had found Vanity in this wondrous place and he intended to speak with her.
The woman looked into the Innocent’s eyes; into his very soul, and spoke to him, “Hello Innocent. Do you remember me?” With a joy that surpassed the brilliance of the Sun, the Innocent responded, “Yes! You are my one and only! Join me in this stream of light!” After he said those words, however, he felt a great sadness. Their connection had begun to fade, as did Vanity’s visage. The youth felt a burning desire to stay with her, but the greater his desire, the more she faded away. Soon enough, she was nothing more than a shimmer in this physics-defying stream. She was gone and someone else revealed themselves. It was another fragment from the Innocent’s old world, one who he recognized right away. Death had appeared; ready to take the youth far from this place of glory. Death wore robes of kings and held a scepter of bronze. His face was only bones and his eyes were pools of madness. The beauty of this place soon became ugliness, the light began to fade, and the joy in the Innocent’s heart became hatred. No one could take the sun away from him! No one could take his beloved Vanity! His eyes overflowed with pain and his mind was filled with dastardly plans for Death. Then Death’s unnerving eyes bore into the Innocent and his mind became silent. His heart silenced and was gripped with fear. The roiling emotions within scared him, but also empowered him. His long-forgotten wounds of the body had healed and the purity of his soul was stained. Death reached over and took the Innocent by the hand. Then the familiar blackness of uncertainty welcomed the youth once more, and he rested.
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