The pressure from his sinus pushed on the aneurysm that had been put him a heartbeat away from the afterlife for the last seven months. Even prone on his hospital bed, he had forgotten his fear of death until the appearance of this everyday infection. He rued his luck, that he had been born blind and yet had to die like his friends that possessed gifts he did not. He should have seen this coming.
Were we able to hear him think, we would have heard many musings on when the thick and unfair books of life and justice would balance themselves out and compensate him for his lifelong disability. All his intricate plans foiled by the Common Cold! The disgrace of it would have killed him if the disease hadn’t.
In his arteries, his blood had turned into a monster. A monster but without malice, and just as blind as he was.
It doesn’t matter. The monster pierced the long drawn walls of his aneurysm and a light winked on. His retinas burned with a silent sizzle. The pinprick of light caused blindness in that abyss as effectively as darkness in a lit world would have. The prick widened, deteriorating in dying glaciers The light burst and galloped through with an urgency, as though it were a fluid pressurized by some unimaginable force. He witnessed the birth of a chasm of light into dark, and was terrified. This is life, he thought in panic. An emergence from the tunnel into light, and the veil slowly tearing from in front of the bust of understanding, ripped as though by the claws of some unseen entity.
He died, but he died understanding that death is but the moment when the veil slips completely and there you are, looking into the eyes of God and they are alive, so terribly alive.