Tuesday, 9 September 2008
And for the second time that night he saw the light coming.
He was blinded, apart, but he was aware of a warmth and then it slowly drove across his mind; the light, crawling like a caterpillar or digging like a worm through the air.
Soon a terrific wind blew up, and he felt his hair rippling, fronds on end, shock and awe. Still the light drew its messages in the room.
The man wondered if he was screaming, he couldn't tell, but he knew his mouth was open wide and the gale was ripping into his front room. It felt like he was standing, horizontally, outstretched from the edge of a cliff – the void rushing and billowing warm gusts and currents of air thick with the taste of ash.
And then the strange sulphurous air was replaced by a lilting calm. He felt like a velvet cloak had been draped over his entire body and the colour filling his eyes changed to a ragged shade of peace.
The light continued to waltz slowly around, but he was ready now and he began to shut his eyes to the music of the beam, slowly succumbing to the beat, grabbing onto the entrails of light and pulling on them, following them home.