Ten Feet To Eternity

As the witnesses stare at me with mixed expressions from the chamber below, I feel almost supernatural, like a deity; I can see their private thoughts, share in their feelings of dread and retribution, speak to them without words. I am consumed by flickering orbs of light, pins and needles, the strange aura of inevitability. I see a world beyond my human perceptions. The grand mirror before me finally shatters.

I am everywhere, floating through the massless medium connecting all places and people. Somewhere, I see the nomad upon a desert plateau, watching the last star of the night disappear into the orange hues of dawn. Somewhere, I feel the tenderness of the long-embittered father finally forgiving his son. Somewhere, a man is concealing his tears, a woman is alone and desperate. In each of these seemingly unrelated situations the same epic tale unfurls: it is the tale of humanity.

My attention returns to the platform on which I stand, in this, the final, squalid room of my human journey. I am not ready. I sense my body's quickened pulse and my mind's cutting terror of pain, of what dreams may come. Trembling, I ask my wayward soul if I might come back to this world someday, if I will ever get to love again, but I get no reply. Soon I shall swiftly descend into the mumbling chasm below, perhaps beyond — nobody knows for sure.

The rope tightens around my neck. I can feel its coarseness even through the felt scarf. A few men in black masks speak to me, but I do not comprehend their words. Language is now but a passing semblance; the faculties of recognition are coming undone. Though I can't see the onlookers — I stand too far above them — their clamor of morbid anticipation reminds me how immediately my fate approaches. Panic overmasters me and I struggle, like a drowning man trying to find air.

How can anyone be truly prepared for death? No amount of foreknowledge can shield a man from the horror of it. Death happens to some by surprise; those are the lucky ones, the ones who don't realize they're holding the winning tickets. It comes to others slowly, like those with cancer, but even they who might envy a quick end such as mine can take hope to be remembered with compassion — unlike me, who will be remembered only by his crime. How long will that memory have to linger?

In a few moments the platform under me will drop and I will hang until dead. I have never been a religious man, but tonight I believe in Him; I beg for His mercy. How quickly even the most prideful heart becomes penitent when faced with the ultimate uncertainty! Please, if there is a God, let my passage be expedious. Let the worldly memories of me fade into oblivion. Let me join Him in the great paradise.

An evanescent calm. My eyes soften, the babel surrounding me decays, my final breaths — terrific and deep — become the only sound. A brief pause, then abruptly the latch releases and I precipitate toward the floor. In an instant my body has jolted to a stop but, strangely, I continue to fall: I only barely sense the breaking of my neck, the seizing of my muscles, the capillaries bursting. I see petrified faces bathed in intervals of light and shadow, the final image of my conscious appreciation — then darkness swims toward me.