A Story (Part V)

I must drown.

Without giving even a chance to a whisper of a second thought to enter my mind, I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with this death-bringing flood from the one who had broken through the tunnel that does not exist.

I inhale, and inhale, until my lungs become saturated with blood and begin to burn with even greater and greater intensity. I gag and sputter and writhe in pain, but I know that I must drown. Above all else, I must die.

Then I drown.

Then I die.

My corpse lies there as, all around it, the blood rushes away, leaving the pathetic lump of flesh that once housed my soul lying on its back, limp.

Dead. Very much dead.

I lurch forward, sitting up and spurting and hacking that life-bringing blood from my lungs.
Alive. Very much alive.

Then I notice something. Two somethings actually.

One: the laughing is still very much filling the tunnel, though the blood has completely receded. Two: I am no longer in a tunnel.

The tunnel that does not exist truly no longer exists. There are no walls, no void, no tunnel.
Just white.
Just light.
And just laughter.

And so, I simply sit, allowing the light to cascade over my body and the laughing to warm my heart and soothe my mind. And I begin to laugh.
And I really laugh.

And I laugh and I laugh and I laugh, for there is no end to the laughter where there are no walls, no void, no tunnel.

There is just white.
And just light.
And just laughter.
And my laughter merges and mixes with the laughter of the one whose wounds I had held in my hands, whose light had pierced my tunnel of anguish, bitterness, solitude, rage, helplessness, hopelessness, and darkness, whose blood had brought me death and set me free to life.

Life.

Just White.
Just Light.
Just Laughter.
And in that laughter, there is just love.