the sky

the sky is beautiful, he thinks as he falls.

maybe it’s never been this beautiful before. maybe he’s going crazy because he’s about to die. isn’t his life supposed to flash before his eyes? all he’s seeing is an endless blue. a blue so wide it could consume him -- and he supposes, soon, it may as well.

he never knew it could take so long to fall. it’s as if life itself is holding its breath, waiting for the moment where it ends. will he stain this beautiful sky when he hits the ground? will it bleed red and never stop, or will it blink once and move on, never to think of him again?

he’s definitely going crazy.

but when else is he going to go crazy? for fucks sake, he’s going to die. god, he’s going to die.

he’s going to die and all that’s going to see is this blue, blue sky, and there’s a saying about trees in the forest and if they really make a sound, but when he dies, if no one sees, will he ever have even existed at all? if all that knows him is this sky, will that be what he becomes?

where do we go when we die? he never believed in reincarnation before, but right now, the sun is angled perfectly to reflect circles of light in his vision, and the sky is so far away and yet so close he could reach out and touch it, and the clouds are making way as if heaven itself will open to take him in, and he’s wondering what part he’ll be when he’s gone. the rays of light, the clouds above, the endless sky?

nothing at all?

he hits the ground.

did you hear him?