I don’t remember much. A cloaked figure had my shoulder and seemed to be breathing heavily and crying, for I saw that the place were I supposed his eyes to be was leaking a continuous stream of liquid. He said now words. He needed to say nothing. For I saw the poor sod that he had been with. A young man cut down in the prime of his life. The cloaked figure kneeled down and it seemed that he said a prayer. I know not what tongue he spoke, his words were noiseless, his pain was evident. He stood once again and looked toward me. Though he had no face, and thereby no eyes, I could tell that he was looking at me. 

He seemed to be either waiting on me or allowing me to follow him. I knew not what to do but I chose to wait and see what he did next. I waited and waited, still he did not move. I looked around to see what he was waiting on. 

The area was clean of color. White as it was, it was difficult to discern where the black was and white was. Black and white there was no gray. My companion, such as he was, was obliged to follow me. If I took a step he followed and took a step as well. I tried to speak to him, but the words I tried to speak were as silent as the environment. There were no others in the area. The trees danced in the wind, but their songs remained quiet. The mountains in the distance, whose mighty peaks I once climbed, resembled eroded hills. I saw the world as it might have been, or perhaps how it might be.

As I walked through the clear-cut environment, I saw the landscape move like many grains of sand in a windstorm. There was a well defined order to the chaos of this realm that I now walked with my mysterious escort. If there was ever a sound that I wanted to hear or a stink to smell or a color to see or warmth to feel or, I did think it odd that of all my senses taste was one that I did not lose. For I tasted a sort of bitterness that was, I supposed, to be my death.

Bitter was the taste, and now I see clearly why the monochrome environment. For the sharp taste was one that I had never tasted. It was a sense that stuck with me. When I tried to ask my companion about it, my voice remained mute. There was a sense of helplessness about me. For my life was over and my death still lurked behind me. Yet my sense of being was still there. So maybe this was an inbetween. A state where heaven and hell do not exist yet. Was there something I was supposed to do? Somewhere I was supposed to go? If there was, I had never heard of it. Never during life was such a thought presented to me. 

But if I am dead, then why does Death follow me still? Ever behind me and still not leaving me alone. So perhaps than me wandering aimlessly, I should think about how I got here. I sat down and tried to remember. Death, the odd fellow that he was, sat down in front of me. I tried to drift into a meditative state, to remember how I came to this place.

I remembered that I was climbing rocks, up a mountain face to see if I could reach the top. I thought that I had made the jump to cross the chasm. I must’ve missed and fallen instead. If I fell, then did I perhaps die? But if I died, why then can I still see my own death. He sits there like a mirror image and yet it seems that his only voluntary movements were when we first met. He then proceeded to follow me and copy me.

 I don’t really accept that he is here. He is like that cousin at the family reunion that we played together as children and since growing into adults our paths and interests have split. We still see each other, but have little in common. I felt like that if I accept death then my life may be over. There was something of a rebellion starting to beat in my heart. I stood up quickly, death mirrored my actions. I faced him and him to me. I pushed with all my might and rejected him with all the strength that I could muster.

With a crash and a shatter, the visions of black and white crumbled before my eyes. Noise and smell rushed forward like a cool wind. A beeping sound could be heard.

The beeping that I heard was that of a heart monitor in a hospital room. I was alive and hearing and seeing. I don’t know how long I was asleep, but I knew that I was alive and rejected my own death. Who knows where I would be if I had accepted my death.