This entry is part 3 of 7 in the series At Deaths Drawer

In the blink of an eye, if unblinking eyes would blink, Jason was transported to a dark reality, darker then the bleak existence he saught to escape. “Jason” shreiked the disembodied voice across the void, seeming to recede away in both distance, and subsistence. “Come back, come back, don’t you leave me!” But it was too late, he was no longer in a world of sensibility, of concrete objects, or even abstract concepts. Even dreams, and horific nightmares had a thread binding them to reality. No such thread existed in the place he now found himself. In fact, ‘himself’ might not exist here either.

 

The sun bled. Crimson droplets stained his vision, already blurred and distorted. Oddly the surreal scenery around him seemed nornal, although there was nothing normal about any of it. A booming voice nearly knocked him off his feet, it had a physical impact that took his breath away. “Why have you squandered my gifts to you?” The voice demanded.

 

Shaken to his core Jason asked “God? Is that you?” Jason had never been religious, religion just had no place in his lifes plan. That plan being one of suffering, making ammends for those he had hurt. Ironically this plan continued to hurt all who dared care. “This gift of suffering? My life is agony, do I owe this to you?”

 

The sky, blood red and swarming with horifying creatures opened, through the violently churning clouds a figure appeared. Not the bearded white man from the cathederal ceilings, not a man at all. Descending from the heavens was a great duck, not a mallard or any common species , but rather a rubber duckie, the kind he bathed with as a child. But one on an impossibly massive scale. It seemed miles from tip to tail. In Jasons chemically currupted mind, none of this seemed abnormal.

 

“Am I dead?” Jason inquired. “When had you last been living?” Came the booming reply. The ground around his feet came alive, slithering snakes wrapping around his ankles. The bloody tears of the sun pooling in pubbles, dark, sticky, pungent, and wriggling with unfathonable life within its depths. It was into those depths he sank, deeper, blood soaked, feeling the evil creatures burrowing into his skin.

 

“Jason, oh Jason, I thought I had lost you” came a familiar voice from very far away.

“Sarah?” He choked on the name, barely able to speak, soaked in a mixture of urine and tears, the world, the real world, drifted back into focus.

 

“Sarah, you’re really here? I thought I would never see you again. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

 

His hand in the drawer again, without realizing it had moved. But this time accompanied by a realization. Maybe he should take just one.

 

 

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