In the White (for Second Chances)
Don't know why I keep walking. Landscape doesn't change a bit. Sorta off-white like a piece of aged lace. I hold up my hand, just to see some welcome colour against the stark back drop.
So, this is it? Blinding light and physical torment.... and then this sea of blank?
Not sure if I much care for being dead.
Thought I'd go to the black. Rest at last. I'd done my bit, hadn't I?
Well, at least it's not some hell dimension, with the stinking brimstone and eternal flames licking at my boot heels.
It's not like I don't deserve that though, after all I've done, lives I've destroyed. Racked up the red cards aplenty. Even dying to save the world can't wipe that slate totally clean.
So I guess I'm in some kind of penalty box. Not sure if hell wouldn't be more...interesting at least.
Not sure how long I've been here, but I know I'm not alone. Whispers in the wind, movement on the edge of my vision....Maybe more souls in limbo with me. I've tried calling out to them, but they don't answer back. Sometimes it feels like someone familiar is standing close, just for a second. and I wonder who it might be. A woman, blonde. Tara? Anya?...Buffy? God I hope it's not Buffy stuck in this afterlife, I died so that she could live on. One of us has to go on living.
So I keep walking. Maybe if I walk far enough I'll get to the edge of the white. Bloke can hope right? 'Sides what else is there to do here? Listen to the sound of my own voice? I'm bored out of my gourd.
Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe this IS a kind of hell.
Made specially for the likes of me.
So, this is it? Blinding light and physical torment.... and then this sea of blank?
Not sure if I much care for being dead.
Thought I'd go to the black. Rest at last. I'd done my bit, hadn't I?
Well, at least it's not some hell dimension, with the stinking brimstone and eternal flames licking at my boot heels.
It's not like I don't deserve that though, after all I've done, lives I've destroyed. Racked up the red cards aplenty. Even dying to save the world can't wipe that slate totally clean.
So I guess I'm in some kind of penalty box. Not sure if hell wouldn't be more...interesting at least.
Not sure how long I've been here, but I know I'm not alone. Whispers in the wind, movement on the edge of my vision....Maybe more souls in limbo with me. I've tried calling out to them, but they don't answer back. Sometimes it feels like someone familiar is standing close, just for a second. and I wonder who it might be. A woman, blonde. Tara? Anya?...Buffy? God I hope it's not Buffy stuck in this afterlife, I died so that she could live on. One of us has to go on living.
So I keep walking. Maybe if I walk far enough I'll get to the edge of the white. Bloke can hope right? 'Sides what else is there to do here? Listen to the sound of my own voice? I'm bored out of my gourd.
Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe this IS a kind of hell.
Made specially for the likes of me.