And the Walls Come Down

He lifted his head from his pillow instinctively. Somehow, this time he knew it was going to happen. He even knew what was going to happen.

Throwing the covers off, he dove for the floor just as the wall behind him burst into a billion pieces of shrapnel, whistling over his head as the shock wave blasted through the room like a freight train. The entire floor lifted up and over, he felt himself flying upside down toward the near wall but really, toward his own back yard.

The corner of the house tipped the ground and the whole room – or what was left of it – flipped as a violent fireball exploded overhead, scorching his back and legs and feet, and everything else around him.

His body crumpled against the wall as if smashed there by some invisible force. He could feel the bones in his spine snapping in sequence as his legs and shoulders shattered and collapsed like so much empty clothing.  His head was shoved backward so that he looked straight up, at the stars.

In that moment, it happened.

His only clue to why he kept dying and living came to him in the form of a sheet of gold, arching across his field of vision like an aurora borealis, only much faster. And inside the arc, for a fraction of a second, he saw his last death and he realized, without knowing, that somehow, some force was allowing him to cheat death over and over.

And just as clearly, he realized that death was not giving up the chase.

He sat up, scratched his head, and stood at the side of his bed.  It was morning, the sun lit up the room through the delicate lace curtain. He couldn’t get over how odd it was that all these fine little things in his room…lamps and books, pictures and mirrors, CD stands and coat rack, still stood exactly as they had been the evening before.

Before he died, and lived, again.

Author’s note: This entry is an excerpt of a screenplay that is currently in development. Please let me know what you think or vote on this entry!

Illustration: Gold Aurora Borealis wallpaper by Titusboy25