Dying in Azairia
By Nora Jaber
Copyright 2012 Nora Jaber
Death. It was nothing like I imagined it would be. The very thought of it used to curve my lips into a frown that lasted until the idea of it slipped my mind. I had often thought of it during my lifetime, I wondered how it would come; in what form it would approach me. I had envisioned death would be somewhat darker in the way it took me; I imagined I would resist it. It doesn’t matter though how death chose to swallow me, because right after the process of dying was over it all led to the same place; an empty, white room that I could only use my memories to decorate.
The earliest memory I've been able to recall since I died takes place when I was eighteen. I had woken up one morning not knowing where I was, or what time it had been. The first thing I saw that day was the most beautiful being I had ever come across. He sat on the ground near the unfamiliar bed I had slept in, knees bent, his face just inches away from mine. Normally opening my eyes to see another pair of them staring into my own would have startled me. This though, was nothing like anything I had ever felt. Had I been one to believe in love at first sight, or magic even, I would have described the feelings that raced through my mind as exactly that.