The chasm deepens. Darkness falls. The blackness undulates like waves of sluggish oil. The yawning maw of oblivion beckons. And I. Surrender. Gladly.
Deeper into the rippling pitch I fall, entranced. Sucked. Suctioned. Plumetting. Flying. And then. The gentle sun of a mellow day. Brilliant in its contrast to the ever fading darkness. Lush trees and babbling riverlets. Snow-clad mountains in the distance. Flower-manicured bushes lining pitch roads. A cool, summer breeze gently ruffling leaves and flowers.
Hope.
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