When It Strikes Razor-sharp pain flourished through his chest, as if a silver bullet had speared into his lung. His knees glimmered with the final few hopes of remaining upright. "it can't end yet". The words shimmered in his mind. Thoughts were like ecstasy now, the final nuggets of intelligence. Everything felt fuzzy, even his bones and his eyes and his toes and his fingernails. Everything loomed overhead with the dizzied glimmer like that which sit's, angelic, over a plume of fire. And then blank. He felt like nothing, and thought nothing, yet he still lay, far too conscious. Why couldn't it go? This reality was overbearing, if hell was real, everyone had been living there longer than time.
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