Free falling from an incredible height, his life flashed by and a realization dawned on him: what a banal normal existence it was.
“Pull the cord,” a distant desperate voice shouted. He pulled, but to no avail. Spiraling towards unforgiving earth below, his thoughts turned to death and the possibility of living beyond the final splatter.
A wading pool flanked by palm trees, a gentle gust run its fingers through the leaves. Soothing surrender – “it’s time to give it up”, the breeze whispers with ominous gentility.
Fruit bowls – filled with grapes, nectarines, bananas, and strawberries – await in an misty acropolis. “How odd,” he thought. “Here I am plummeting, but paradise is supposedly up above.” He did not dare to look up.
Beauties, draped in white silk, feed him grapes - defilement follows decadence. There were no warriors to be found on the downward spiral. Thoughts of defilement pleased the falling man nonetheless.
A sudden vision interrupted. Eternal fires stoked by agony – a logical end for a plummeting buffoon. Barking dogs – woof, woof, woof – greet welcomed newcomers. The master of ceremonies emerges from his molten resting place.
“Welcome to your hell…”
The interminable descent frustrated him. Doom or salvation, but the wait he could not bear. He ran out of fanciful visions and earth came into dreadful focus. He thought about his loves. He contemplated a legacy, wondering whether immortality could be manufactured. He thought about Orpheus, dear Orpheus – his tormented kindred spirit. He dared not to look up. He thought about this final incomplete journey. He closed his eyes and looked up. The inevitable never came.
