Dark. That was the very first thought that came to her mind. Everything was dark. The optical nerve refused to analyze any color or definite shape; it felt as though the Artist had somehow got himself distracted and spilled a thousand rainbows on his canvas; Amy Rose was the kind of stubbornly optimistic person that regards black simply as the presence of all colors instead of the lack thereof.

So, that was what the mysticists called the afterlife? Was that infinite blindness all that remained to the layman after the end of their days? The pink female had no other explanations other than that of a sudden death, caused either of fear or during the crash landing, back on the airplane where she had passed the last -and most disheartening- moments of her short-lived existence. Or maybe...wait! Wait.

Back on the airplane.

She wasn't in the airplane anymore! Even if totally void of her sight, Amy would still bet that the rough feeling under her skin, the light caress of a soothing breeze, and the nostalgic smell of salt coming from the sea somewhere near, were real. Then again, it could be that she hadn't committed many sins in her life, being the ever-smiling and lovable next door girl type, and thus had gained a place in Heaven. She tried to remember the things they were told at school, during the religious education. Yeah, there sure where trees, and water, and you felt-they were always told- soothed, void of the burdens of life as your soul was set free.

Sonic always said that all this was brainwashing hokus pokus.

Maybe it indeed was. Amy caught herself hoping for that with all of her might. She wanted to be alive, continue with her dreams, instead of dying alone on an airplane where nobody knew or cared about her. If that was the afterlife, Heaven, or whatever one could call it, then who would tell her friends she was sorry? Who would give their infinite love to Sonic, that had promised, promised to marry her and would feel remorses just because his fiancee` had suddenly gone crazy, immature, and...and...downright ungrateful?

Amy thought all she wanted to do was just cry like there were no tomorrow. The fact that the tear she felt on her cheek seemed more than perfectly real -not to mention it implied the existence of absolutely healthy glands- made her ears twich. Everything was plainly confusing. How could she be alive? Where was she? And how could the feeling that she was flying be so realistic if just a simple hallucination?

Someone is carrying me.

Yeah, that was it! The aeroplane had collided into a small, inhabited island, and the villagers had probably seen the smoke, and came to save the survivors captured under the debris...

...the female closed her eyes, knowing...hoping...praying she was safe; then drifted to a disarming sleep of death.