I’m sitting down, my legs shaking my ribs aching, my head spinning
Through the haze, I see his face – so familiar and yet he has taken on the appearance of an angel. The light streaming down behind his back looks exactly like translucent angel-wings
I giggle a little – he slaps me. He grabs my ears – they hurt, somewhere. He puts his face to mine – and through the metallic blood-taste, I smell his breath. He yells at me.
“Who are you? Look at me! Who the fuck are you?”
I mumble an answer, and he slaps me again. It’s ok – I’m numb – I can’t feel this kind of thing anymore.
“Peter. Peter Morton. I’m Peter Morton”
My voice rises. A little strength flows upwards from my belly.
He takes a deep breath. Time is slowed, and I await the exhalation of alcoholic mist.
*“Peter Morton. Yeah, that’s who you are.
And you know what, son? This is it. This is the fucking end. This is the beginning. There is no other time, for you. Nothing that has ever happened to you is important. Nothing you remember, nothing you wished for, hated, loved and cried over exists anymore. There is blackness behind you. Not Grey – it’s a lightless fucking Black.
Your future is nothing. There is nothing in front of you. You have no dreams, no desires, no hopes. You do not have a family. Are you fucking listening to me? You have nothing, you come from nothing. You are not doing this for anyone. Your family is nothing. Your wife, your kid – they’ve fucking disappeared.
THIS here is the moment”*
My body is blind, my mind is electric. I am disassociated. He is still staring, piercing, drilling me.
*“Any second now, your heaven will arrive. It is the one moment you have lived for, from your beginning to your end, which is now. You are Called, Peter. A Calling comes only once. This is your Calling. You’ve felt it inside you from the moment you were born. That feeling you were special? No, you aren’t special, no more special then everyone else. But you can make yourself special, Peter. We all can, but hardly anyone ever does.
There – 15 seconds to go, son. You will soon feel a hot white light on you. It will be your cloak and your strength. Your body is your vehicle. It is not you, it is your tool. You will not feel pain. Your mind is automatic. Everything you have ever learned can now be forgotten. Trust your mind and let it do its thing. The real you is not in your body.”*
Something is shoved in my mouth.
The bell rings.
I stand up, unusually light.
Am I really standing….? – my mind fades to nothing – and a white light descends over me as I float towards the centre…