Reaching deep down inside, he located his beast. No longer wearing the collar at the end of his leash. Closing his eyes, accepting his fate, knowing that Death has him placed in checkmate…
Fade to black, in that instant he is falling, knowing that time itself had come calling. Mitchell opens his eyes but still he sees nothing, hoping to cast out a gaze and simply see something.
He runs his hands over where his shoulders should be, then moves to his torso and on to his knees. Feeling his frame for wounds that he wears, accepting the truth when he should have chose dare. Stuck in a game that was better not played, already accepting he wouldn't be saved.
There’s a light that is shining, growing further away, Mitchell is falling without much delay. He knows the light would offer protection, he can’t stop his fall in the other direction! Mitchell flails as he’s falling, kicks as he tumbles. Reaching, grasping while he fidgets and fumbles. Memories previously rolling like huge motion pictures, now fading to black like reels running projectors.
Falling back down the shaft he escaped, Mitchell realized he was simply too late. About to be served his final subpoena, finding calm in falling that changed his demeanor. This was the price for mistakes he has made ; Death at the bottom, holding his blade.
Death standing ready for Mitchell to atone, watching his walk down memory lane bring him home. Here Mitchell fell spiraling out of control, losing all he possessed not attached to his soul.
Crying as he fell, accepting his role, the velocity of falling taking its toll. Seconds take centuries, consciousness begins to fade, the light and the dark disagree in the shade. Now he would fall through that elevator shaft, eternally regretting the time he gave back. Flames turned inferno, blazing at the bottom. Gravity leading to fire is where his decisions have brought him.
Realizing what a fall at this speed and direction, meant in the grand scheme of pointless obsessions. Closing his eyes, one final time, he can hear chants crossing over the line.
All’s well that ends well…” Hearing words screeching off walls of a chalkboard, like keys from a keyring. Feedback from a microphone, he can hear tearfully, “HE IS GOING NOWHERE!!!” Chants ringing out cheerfully…..
Still, it was raining when he opens his eyes, he can’t move his arms, he can’t feel his thighs. Legs can not shake, his ears are both working. Raindrops he hears means some senses are working.
Laying in bed that he knows is not his, inside of a room that is dark, drab, and dim. The curtains are pulled, the windows are shading a storm raging on that shows no signs of fading.
At that very moment, came a knock that rang low, a familiar wrap from a familiar foe. Mitchell’s scanning the room for the source of the noise, trying his best to regain some of his poise. Instead, what he sees is a nurse with his sight. She pushes open the door, walks to his right. Pulls his chart right off his bedside, looking at Mitchell like every part was his bad side.
Marking a check in a couple of boxes, adjusting blankets while Mitchell just watches. Mitchell can’t move, doesn't think he can speak, eyes are more open than they have been in weeks! Trying to move any muscle that lets him, I AM AWAKE is all he would tell them! The nurse looks right through him heading for the door, done with her rounds she looks at the floor.
“All’s well that ends well…” Sounds come out semi-nicely, though words that she chose made her look come out sideways. Every muscle he could move would answer politely, she could be a demon who meant it like ‘fight me.’
She slips through the door, into the hall, looking back at a man who survived quite a fall. Wanting to answer with something in kind, instead Mitchell chose words sounding sublime.
“That’s what they say…” Mitchell’s soul lays out bare, a nurse disappearing like she was never there.