Winter's Dream

by Rosalina "Rosie" Valdez

This city, no stranger to shadows, is now consumed with darkness.
I stand there in the street, once filled with the incessant chatter of tourists
and the hurried steps of natives trying to get to work
now filled with people running frantically for their lives.

It's the end of the world as we know it
and no, it's not what you may think.
We're not at war,
there are no terrorists,
and it's not a nuclear holocaust.

People are dropping to the floor, dead.

The end is near and they know this.
But how can one stop it when they don't know how?
How can one outsmart Death?

Scared, I seek shelter in the sewers with others down below.
As I climb down I see the bodies of dead animals falling from the skies.
Blood runs through the streets, and the wails of the helpless
make me physically ill.

The sewers are an intricate web of mazes
and soon I lose track of those that were with me.
I'm standing at the edge of what seems to be a concrete island.
I want to double back but I'm struck.

I drop to my knees,
trying to make sense of what's going on
but find no answers.

The wails from the world outside grow louder and I want it all to end.
There's a sudden current of water from the sewers and human bodies rush past.
I bristle,
trying to back away as I see them come close.
I fear there are trying to take me
but instead
They are gasping at three piles of stones that are at my knees.

I wonder why I hadn't noticed them before.

I watch as more bodies float past me, all intent on touching one of these piles.

Somehow, I know why it's important for them to touch these stones.

These stones will help them find their way.
These people are dead.

Those who touch the stones to the farthest left will go to Hell.
Those who touch the stones to the farthest right will go to Heaven.
I don't think they know this,
for I see their faces as they pass
and it's a look of utter fear.

I know this look because it's the look on my face
when I see these people not choose the middle pile.

The middle pile of stones signifies my salvation.

The waters pick up,
the wailing on the outside grows louder,
more frantic, and the numbers of dead bodies fly past me.

All I want is for all of this to end.

I don't want to kneel there helpless not being able to save them or myself.
I close my eyes and want to yell.

Then it stops.

I haven't opened my eyes but I know that the waters are still,
the wailing has stopped, and I am kneeling there alone
only with the piles of rocks.

I continue to kneel,
motionless,
eyes closed
until I feel a hand rest upon my shoulder.

I open my eyes and look up to see a man in black.

This Man in Black did not look to be friend or foe.

He motions me to get up and follow.
I do.

Don't ask me why I felt so at peace with the Man in Black
because I do not know.

All I know is that I knew following him was the right thing to do.

He leads me through the sewer to a doorway.
A rounded, wooden door,
that you knew
didn't belong there.

I felt myself growing uncomfortable again
but one look from the Man in Black took it all away.

He opens the door
and on the other side there's a darkly orange hued sky,
ground covered with black grass,
and a black Weeping Willow.

At that moment everything makes sense.
No longer is there fear or worry.

All that's left is the Man in Black,
the door,
the other side,
and me.

And I'm happy.