Stormy Night

It was raining hard, the wind was blowing strong. Raindrops were drumming on the glass windows, high at the top of the building. The man was staring out, gazing, trying to see clearly through all the madness of the storm. He had his hands inside the pocket, like he always did whenever he was in deep reverie. His posture was relaxed, but there was no mistaking the slightly worried look in his eyes.

He pressed a hand on the glass window. It was cold to the touch. The room was dark, occasionally lit by flashes of thunder. The occasional shadow on his face made him look as if he was crying. It was only the water running down the window outside, lit up by thunder, projecting tears on his face. It was calm inside the room, but the weather spoke for the man's feeling.

He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the beating of the rain. He opened them again, hoping that things were different by then. The storm, however, continued. He could only hoped that the storm would not last the night. For he was lost. He was dying. And he felt as if the storm was blocking his view, hiding the truth. Hiding the answer. Obscuring his salvation, his way out.

He could not run away from it. From Death. It greeted him in every waking moment, visiting him in his every dreams. It sang songs through the howling wind of the storm. Songs of his coming, inevitable demise. The end was near.

There is no use, it said, holding to the past. Let it go, it whispered, let your life go. There is no more use this old life has to offer you, Death would be a sweet release for you, It seduced. Let your hands go, relax your grip, take my hands, It offered.

I will not, whispered the man. There was hardness in his eyes. I could not let it go, he hissed. His hands gripped the fabric inside his pockets hard.

What is left there besides broken hearts, It asked.What lay there except for shattered dreams, It queried. To stay any longer will only bring you oblivion. Emptiness. Realize that I am your only True Salvation. Embrace me with all your heart, accept me, and all will be well...

...and the storm died. The clouds parted. The stars shone shyly. And it was calm. The man relaxed. The storm had ended. It was clear.

Cold hands touched his shoulder. Cold as Death. It whispered softly in his ear, you will find peace. Submit, and the pain will be no more. The man closed his eyes. Cold hands caressed his neck...

...and peace came.

Morning never looked so bright.