TERMINAL PEACE

Imagine this.

A stabbing, shooting pain in a long-empty chest. Three human forms, one dead, become hazy, rain-blurred shapes.

Agony.

Nothing but agony.

Your head tilts backwards, your eyes stare up at a furious sky. You whisper her name.

Her name. The only name that ever mattered.

Calypso...

And you fall.

- - - - -

She rushes up to meet you. Closes over you. Locks you in.

Blue. Blue everywhere.

Blue that invades you, bursts into you, penetrates your every pore. It is quiet, now. Finally.

Against your will, your body spasms helplessly. Some long-buried instinct spikes through your mind, demanding acquiescence. It wants you to live.

No. No. You want to die.

You need to die.

You need to end this, end it all, end the heartache and anguish and grief, erase the scars.

You can't hold it any longer. You exhale for a final time, watch a lazy stream of bubbles make its indifferent way to the surface.

Inhale.

She floods you.

And so does sharply burning pain.

Your lungs contract and struggle, your mouth gapes uselessly. Dimly, you feel your body settle into soft sand.

Soft...

The convulsions stop. The pain remains. A woman coaxes you through the torment.

Or laughs?

You can't tell. You don't care. You listen.

Every particle of your being focuses on this distant whisper, happy for it.

Her voice is beautiful.

Ah. Here it comes. The terminal peace, at last.

At last.

She's speaking...

Calypso!

Darkness spirits you away.

A goddess grieves.