|The Lost Scroll|
|written by: BASIL GOSSMAN|
The wind was howling outside and the rain lashed against the windowpanes with such force, that I feared that they would be blown out. Lightning flashed and cracked across the heavens followed by the deep growl and blast of the thunder. I peered through the window into black angry night at the flashes that lit up the sky and listened to the angry voice of God as it cracked and hissed at mankind. I was taught as a child that when there is thunder and lightning, it was the anger of God that made the heavens roar. I went back to my cot and laid my head down on a pillow that was as hard as a rock. I listened to the violence of the storm as it made its way toward where I laid. Suddenly there was silence - the rain and wind stopped; it was an eerie quietness that was more frightening than the storm. Slowly the rumbling started and with every second it got louder and louder; I felt the vibrations through the steel frame of my cot. My heart was in my throat as the heavens opened as bolt after bolt struck the earth, my room lit up as the lightning ripped through the sky. It smashed through my window and hit the steel door blowing it off its hinges. The rumbling had now become like a wounded animal as it growled and screamed. It finally gave vent to its anger with a boom that shook the ground and rattled everything in my tiny room.
It entered the window silently and hung in mid air. It was a ball of lightning that bounced up and down like a yoyo. I could only look at it for a moment, as the brightness was blindingly intense. I opened my eyes and saw it grow dimmer and what was once a fiery ball slowly began to resemble the face of a man. The shape of the sphere took on the outline of a man. Before my very eyes, I witnessed the metamorphosis take place as a man emerged from the ball. I could see his outline and his face but he was transparent as I could see right through him. Like the ball, he hovered in mid-air but as his shape became clearer and denser, he descended to the ground. "Marvellous entrance, donít you think"? , He said. " You surprise me, by now others would have been screaming their heads off. Do you mind if I sit at the edge of your bed"? He sat down, looked around and remarked, "How depressing, surely they could have made you more comfortable, seeing that they are going to hang you in a few hours time". He turned and looked at me and for the first time I could see his face - he was extremely pale and the colour of his eyes were almost violet. He was dressed in a Mandarin type tunic and his hair was pale blond.
"The door is open, everyone in the building is unconscious, why donít you just walk out to freedom"? He asked. I did not reply. "Oh yes, I forgot, you have not spoken a word for 10 years. You have been incarcerated for 25 years for murder and after three failed attempts to have your case re-tried, you vowed never to speak again and they decided you must hang," he said staring at me. "You are probably thinking that you are dreaming and you will wake up and all will be normal. I am afraid that what you are seeing is real. Go over to the door and walk through it - I will not stop you". I remained silent, covered myself with a blanket, turned my back to the vision and tried to sleep. "Sleep will not come this night as I have been sent to hear your confession," he said.
"Let us recall the events that led you here. You worked late that night 26 years ago and on you way to your car you heard a woman screaming for help. You decided to investigate and saw 5 men raping a woman, you shouted at them to stop but they came at you armed with knives. The woman free of her attackers ran away. As the 5 men approached you, you drew you 357 revolver and warned them to stop - they did not - you fired and shot the first one in his neck, blowing his head off. One you shot in the head and the other one straight through his heart. The other two ran, you took aim and shot one in his back - he fell like a limp doll, the other you shot in the shoulder but he got up and ran away. That was pretty good shooting seeing you only had 5 bullets in the gun. The police came, saw three dead white men, another with his back blown in half and a black man holding a smoking gun. In 1968, you never stood a chance; at your trial, the one you crippled from neck down testified that you were the rapist and they were trying to rescue the woman when you shot them. The one whose shoulder you destroyed gave the same evidence and the woman and the knives were missing. You never said a word all through the proceedings and when they sentenced you to death by hanging - you were silent. They have kept you alive because of the appeals but come the daylight - you will die".
I turned and looked at the stranger, whose eyes were now light blue; he stared back - waiting for me to say something. "Who are you and what do you want"? I asked. "Who I am does not matter, I am here to ask you a few questions", he replied.
Me: I want to be alone with my own thoughts and have no wish to answer any questions.
Stranger: I want to know why you never cursed those that put you here or why you never blamed God for dealing you a rough hand? You lost everything, your family, your beloved pigeons and now your life - yet you never complained. Why?
Me: I created my own hell and no one but I am to blame. I could have walked away and let them kill the woman but it was my choice to help.
Stranger: Do you regret going to her rescue?
Me: No, too many of us walk away when we see others in need of help. I am only sorry that I did not kill all five of them, as they deserved to die.
Stranger: So you acted as judge and jury by taking the law into your own hands. You cold bloodedly mowed them down without any remorse - did you think that you had the right to take the lives of others?
Me: No, but they were going to kill the woman and would have killed me as well. In my position, what would you have done?
Stranger: I should be asking the questionsÖÖ
Me: Who are you anyway. I do not have to answer, so if you donít mind, I would like to be alone.
Stranger: Do you believe in what the bible says?
Me: Of course, I do - what do you think kept me sane all these years?
Stranger: Then I suppose you know the story of Job.
Me: Yes, and what of it?
Stranger: The story of Job is incomplete because the scroll that relates to certain events was lost. I thought that I would tell you what happened between Job, God, Satan and a pigeon.
Me: Are you soft in the head, hours before I am to hang, you pitch up to tell me a story? I need to make my peace with my maker, so get on your lightning bolt and buzz off.
Stranger: What makes you think that there is anyone out there to listen? Why still pray to a God that had forsaken you.
Me: No, it is the other way around - I let Him down.
Stranger: Very noble of you but He still left you hanging - forgive the pun!
Me: Oh, shut and go away.
I turned my back on him, pulling the blankets over my head.
He started to speak, "We all know what God did to Job to test him and how he lost and regained it all. However, there is more to the story and I thought you would appreciate some company during your last hours". I did not reply.
"There is no mention of it in the bible but Job was a pigeon fancier and had been the countryís best for many years. After all the drama between God and Job, God challenged Job to a one-bird race from 600 miles. Job knew God did not have a chance against his old blue cock that had won many distance races. Riders on horseback took the birds to the race point. They would stop at every village, water the birds, change horse and rider and be on their way. The journey took four days of non-stop riding. At the race point, the birds would rest until the next morning and a bowl of food and water was in front of them all the time. God had sent a small white hen with a black tail. She looked too fragile to fly across the desert. Surely, He could have sent a better class of pigeon to this gruelling race. Nevertheless, he knew better than to argue with the Man upstairs.
In the meantime, Satan heard about the race and sent his best peregrine falcon to derail the competition. Satan loved raptors, as they were the ultimate killing machines. He kept a huge flock of them and enjoyed watching them butcher pigeons. He had trained them to attack mountain goats by pushing them off the cliffs. His pride and joy was a huge peregrine called, "Lucifer" he was the base of the whole flock and feared nothing. This peregrine would hunt and kill fully grown apes. When he took to the sky, every living animal for miles around went into hiding.
At daybreak, the mercury stood at 39 degrees Celsius when they opened the basket to release the two birds. The birds did two swings around the liberation point and headed for home. The climbed very high to catch the cooler air stream and side by side they flew. Five hours into the race, the blue cock saw the hen tiring and headed for the nearest oasis; having flown this rout many times, he knew all the watering holes. They dropped at the waters edge and drank their fill. Their feet burning from the desert sand, they took to the air, first skimming the tops of the sand dunes and climbed as fast as they could. The sun was merciless as it scorched the earth and climbing through the heat bands sapped much of their strength.
They never saw the falcon as they climbed, unaware of the danger, they levelled off at 15,000 feet before the final climb to their flying height of 25,000 feet. The blue saw the falcon plummeting down toward them. He immediately soared higher out of dangers way but the white hen was too slow to react. The raptor hit her in the back and dived down to enjoy his catch. The blue now some 10,000 feet above the diving falcon, did the unthinkable. He closed his wings and dived down toward the falcon. His feathers scorched as he descended like a bullet through the shearing heat - he had to get the falcon before it landed. His aim had to be accurate or he would dead as well. He hit the falcon at the base of his neck, the force of the collision sent all three birds spinning out of control and falling. Out of the corner of his eye, the blue saw the falcon fall like a stone, his neck hanging at an odd angle. "Got you, you bastard", he thought just before he himself, hit the ground unconscious. He came to, half frozen by the cold desert night. Not far from him the falcon laid with his head buried in the sand but the white hen was nowhere in sight. His wings were uninjured but he knew his keel was broken. He looked up at the stars and realised they still had 350 miles to fly. He got up and went in search of the hen but she was not to be seen anywhere. He took to the air and slowly circled the dunes; every beat of his wings was agony but he kept up his search. He found her trying to climb a dune, dragging her one wing. He flew down to her - she was bleeding from a wound in her back and her tail feathers were gone. They laid close to each other for warmth, waiting for the dawn to break. He knew that he could make it home but she had no chance and was doomed to die. Just before dawn, the wind began to blow, which meant a sandstorm was brewing - they had to get away now. They climbed to the top of the dune and saw the sandstorm rolling toward them. He looked at her, nodded his head and took off into the sky. He climbed to 300 feet, turned and headed straight at the hen; she turned her back to him and lifted her wings. Swooping down, he grabbed her behind the wings, lifted her off the ground, and took her with him into the morning sky. Off balance, he struggled as he climbed toward the cold air stream. Finally, they made it into the upper heights and found the wind was from behind, assisting them on their journey home.
Racked by pain, he flew through the day not daring to stop, knowing he would not have the strength to start again. He could still feel the body heat of the hen below him but he had to pick up speed and with a super effort he climbed to 30,000 feet. He had never flown at that height before and found the air thin as he struggled to breath but he had climbed into a trade wind and it picked him up and carried him homewards. Flexing his wings, he let the wind carry him at blinding speed. His claws were numb but he clung onto her. He closed his mind to the freezing cold but when ice began to form on his wings, he dropped down to 5,000 feet. Near dusk he saw the familiar landmarks of his home and ignoring the screaming pain, he flew faster knowing he was near home. He had to descend into the heat as he neared the loft and flew slower as he could not breath. Flying with his beak open, he ploughed his way forward with only one mile still to go, he looked down and saw that the hen was still alive.
He entered his home valley and he could see the loft; people on the ground pointed up at the sight of the two birds and ran after them. As he flew, the crowd following grew bigger all heading for Jobís house. Job was standing outside the loft when he saw the strange sight of two birds. They came low and slowly dropped on the grass in front of the loft. The blue could not move and laid still, the hen got up, walked to him and preened him gently around the ears. Job picked them up and took them into the house. The hen took some fine seed and water but the blue lay on the table, stiff and unable to move. Job poured a few drops of water into the mouth of his champion and sat stroking and talking softly to the exhausted bird.
A strange golden light illuminated the room and Job knew that God had entered. "No man or woman had ever shown such courage and the will to overcome the impossible", the voice said. "From this day on the racing pigeon will be regarded as head of all of the animal kingdom. They will have abilities way beyond the understanding of man. Men of great learning will try to find the answers but they never shall. The racing pigeon shall mystify mankind forever. Men shall theorise on every aspect of the bird but the secret will elude them. Many false prophets will come and claim to know the secret but they shall all fail. The pigeon will evolve faster than any other creature and itís intellect will outstrip that of mankind. Man shall build machines of great knowledge and shall travel to the stars but they shall never unravel the secrets of the racing pigeon. At the end of days, man shall no longer exist but the racing pigeon shall never perish. So speaketh your Lord and God. The light disappeared and Job saw the two birds restored to their former selves. He took them to the loft where they formed basis of every pigeon today. Job came out to the crowd and told them that they could lift their faces off the ground as the light had gone. "You have heard the voice and seen His light - go home and revere the bravery of the humble pigeon".
Satan incensed at the demise of "Lucifer" cursed the racing pigeon and vowed that they shall die by the millions; killed by raptors. It is man that will see the raptors multiply by breeding them and released into wild where they will become the supreme killing machines.
The voice fell silent and only sound was that of the rain still beating against the windows. I sat up and looked at the stranger, whose eyes were now pale grey. We stared at each other and all the while, the colour of his eyes changed from grey to a scary blood red. "Whatís with the eye tricks"? I asked. "I thought you would never notice - I am the original "Eyesign Man", he replied. For the first time in a long time, I smiled. "Which colours do you like best? He asked. "The grey, I have always been a sucker for pearl eyes", I said. It was his turn to grin. "What is your purpose for coming here and what lesson is there in your tale"? I asked. "The blue could have flown off and left hen to the falcon but he put his own life in danger to help her. In the process, he suffered by carrying her to safety, not once did he think of himself. He was prepared to make the supreme sacrifice to save the life of another". "Come to think of it, there are very few people who will come to the rescue of others", I said. His eyes turned to a normal blue as he stared at me; I felt as if he was probing my mind, looking for something. "You did, and you are to die for helping someone in trouble", he said. "I acted instinctively without thinking of the consequences but thinking back, I would do the same again if I had to", I replied. He stood up, looked down at me, and said, "They will be coming for you within the hour, do not be afraid you will feel no pain". From the pocket of his tunic, he took out a glowing ball as big as a marble. "Take this in your hand, it will burn but you will not feel the rope stretch your neck", he said handing me the glowing globe. The heat sheared through my entire body but I held onto the ball; after a while, the pain was gone and calmness came over me. I looked up - he was gone.
I sat in silence when they came, followed by a priest. I heard his voice in the far distance, when he finished his unemotional ritual, I was handcuffed, my feet chained and I was slowly marched down the corridor to the hanging chamber. Helped up some steps, I stood in the centre of a platform. Behind a glass screen, I saw a blur of faces; someone at the back of me was droning something. A face appeared in my view and uttered some words I could not hear. I felt the hood being pulled over my head, at last the peace of darkness. With the noose now around my neck, I stood in silence, very calm as I clutched the ball in my hand.
In the darkness, I saw a light speeding toward me, the ground beneath my feet gave way and I fell in slow motion. I felt the jerk of the rope but no pain; my attention focussed on the light that now formed a tunnel. With its intense light, it engulfed me and I found myself standing inside a tube with revolving walls that changed colours all the time. Not knowing what to do, I turned left and the ball in my hand sent a shearing pain through my body. I doubled up as it burned through every fibre of my being. I turned to the right and the pain disappeared. I looked down and found that my feet were off the ground; Suspended in midair, I took a step forward; a blinding light sucked me toward the end of the tunnel and then darkness
It was drizzling when I left work and headed for the parking lot. Deserted, save for my car and a panel van, I opened my car door and heard someone scream from inside the van. I took my 357-magnum revolver - loaded with hollow point bullets, and approached the van. "Everything alright in there," I asked. The backdoor flew open and a giant of a man hovered over me. "F off like a good little boy and go home to your bitch", he shouted, slamming the door in my face. Inside the van, I had seen four other men standing over a naked woman whose face was bloody. Slowly I retraced my steps to my car - I heard the girl scream "please help me", and then the laughter of the men. Calmly, I took the auto loader from the glove compartment and headed back to the van.
I knew some had to be standing, I went to the side of the van, took aim and fired five shots, I had one left in the gun and fired at the backdoor of the van - someone screamed. Reloaded, I placed myself facing the backdoor waiting for them to come out. The first one was the giant - he jumped at me; I fired hitting him full in the face, splitting it in two. He dropped like a stone. They both came screaming out of the van shouting - by this time, I had moved to the side of the van. As they turned to face me, it was too late; they died instantly as the hollow points tore them apart. Nothing moved, except for the sound of someone moaning from inside the van. I shouted, "You can come out now" - silence. I approached and looked inside; the girl was cowering in a corner too afraid to move, one of the men was lying in heap with his innards hanging out - he was dead. Standing against the back of the van stood one of the culprits. He was shivering, had wet and fouled himself. He lifted his hands and said, "Please donít shoot me". "Come out slowly", I said. He got out of the van and faced me - he put up his hands in prayer like fashion and pleaded, "Please have mercy, I never touched her". I moved back and shot his kneecap to hell. He screamed with pain as clutched his leg and fell to the ground - I went up to him and shot his other kneecap, the force of the hollow point blew away the bottom part of his leg. The screaming continued as I entered the van took off my raincoat and draped it over the frightened girl. "Donít be afraid, it is all over, you are safe now", I said to the girl whose face was swollen and blood was oozing from her mouth. Gently I moved her from the van put her on the backseat of my car.
I heard the sirens of the police vans and waited, lighting a cigarette to calm my nerves. They came to a screeching halt, jumped out, and the one said, "At last someone got the bastards". One came to me, I handed him my gun; he looked at me and then at the girl in the car. "We have been after these swine for a long time as they have raped and killed more than a dozen woman over the last few months. I see you got "The Bull", that big bastard with his head in two. Nice going, you saved us a lot of trouble", he said. Within minutes, the scene was swarming with cops the ambulance arrived to take the girl away. They put her on a stretcher and put her inside. "She wants to see you", the doctor said. I went to her side, she took my hand and a soft voice said, "Thank you". I nodded, got out and watch the ambulance speed off with sirens screaming.
I gave my statement at the police station and left there a hero as everyone stood up and applauded as I walked out the door. The rain had stopped and the moon peeped at me from behind a cloud as I got into my car. The story made front-page headlines; television people wanted interviews, so I took leave from work and spent a month just looking after the pigeons. My family left to stay with friends while I lived the life of a recluse.
It was breeding time and the hens were going down on eggs. I started to develop a sore in the palm of my right hand but it was painless. After a week, the scab fell off while I was asleep and when I awoke; the palm of my hand was aglow with bright blue light. It came from a round mark in centre of my hand. I felt at peace with myself and some higher being. The light only shone when I woke up each morning, it had an unbelievable calming effect on me. I did not question where it came from or what it was or meant.
I never kept my stock birds prisoners so they had their freedom everyday to do what pleased them. I let them out on a bright sunny morning. Instead of flying down to the lawn, they took to the air, I watched as they climbed higher and higher until I could not see them anymore. I waited for hours but they never came. I had to put the racers out for their daily spin and the same thing happened, they climbed into the heavens and disappeared. In the stock loft, I found all the babies dead; I stood stunned as I looked at the sight - what was going on? I buried them all and sat in my favourite chair waiting for the return of the stock and race birds. They never came back; I sat for a week waiting but nothing came back.
The blue light in my palm stopped coming and I woke each morning screaming with pain. I had nightmares of hangings, jail cells and thunderstorms. Two weeks after the disappearance of the pigeons, I woke up with the bed covered in blood seeping from my neck and the palm of my hand. "Sweet Jesus what is happening to me!" I screamed. I stood against the wall screaming it repeatedly. It started to rain and within seconds it stormed, lightning flashed and thunder boomed overhead. Standing against the wall, I watched the blood dripping onto the carpet and dissolve - there were no bloodstains; I looked over to the bed, the bloodstains had gone. I went to the kitchen, looked at the lofts, and watched as the rain pounded it. From the heavens came a lightning bolt and hit the lofts, it burst into flames; I stood rooted to the spot as I watched the flames destroy everything within minutes.
I walked out into the pouring rain, raised my face to the heavens and screamed, "What have I done to you - what do you want from me"? Overcome with emotion, I fell to my knees and pounded the ground with my fists, screaming obscenities - and then everything blacked out. I woke up and found myself lying face down in the mud, soaked to the skin. The loft was a heap of ashes; even the cement pillars had melted away. I walked back into the house and sat down in the living room staring at the blood trickling from the palm of my hand. Drained both mentally and physically, I sat motionless, staring at the floor. I sat up and leaned back into the softness of the armchair, on the wall facing me I always had a painting of a blue chequer pigeon I bought many years ago while holidaying in Australia. The blue chequer was gone and its place was a painting of a white hen with a black tail and a blue cock. I stared at it but my mind was too numb to react. I drifted into a deep sleep and dreamt of a tunnel with revolving walls and a man who changed the colour of his eyes at will.
The sun was shining brightly outside when I opened my eyes. The painting on the wall was of the blue chequer, I tried not to think for fear of going insane. The bleeding had stopped but in the centre of my palm were two symbols that resembled two pigeons. I went into the kitchen, took a glass and poured some water from tap; I lifted the glass to my lips at the same time I looked into the backyard. The glass crashed to the ground as I stumbled backward clutching my head and trying not to scream. Standing in the same place as the burned lofts, was an array of lofts; the same ones I always dreamed of having. I trembled as I tried to fight the madness that was happening. Still clutching my head, I sunk to the kitchen floor and sat there motionless listening to the pounding of my heart. I was now convinced that I was going mad, there was no possible explanation for it all. Sitting on the floor with my knees pulled up against my chest, my mind was in turmoil. After what seemed and eternity, I got up, walked to the window and looked at the lofts. I went outside and approached the loft; it had five sections each fitted out with best equipment. At the end were two stock lofts; each with its own aviary. Too nervous to enter them, I sat in the coolness of the old oak tree and stared at the wonder before me. Deep in thought, I never saw them coming; walking on the grass patch in front of the loft was a blue cock and a white hen with a black tail. Slowly they made their way to me; each was rung with a ring of gold that had Arabic or Hebrew inscriptions on them. They allowed me to handle them, they were very ordinary but my hands trembled, as I knew I was holding creatures not from this world. I watched them as they flew about and landing, looking sky ward - the way pigeons do when they spot a hawk.
The sun was sitting low in the sky and the early evening shadows were creeping across the lawn; when it all happened. I saw a batch of pigeons coming at speed towards the lofts - they made one circle and pitched on the loft. They were all cock birds - mostly blues, blue pieds with the odd white one. They coo-ed and danced on the roof of the loft and one by one they entered the widowhood section and took a nestbox. The blue cock and his white hen still looked sky ward - there was a flurry of wings and a batch of hens dropped on the lawn. I watched with astonishment as they entered the end section containing only perches. The sun was setting and the garden was lit with a strange golden light by the rays of the sun. There were twelve of them - six hen and six cocks; they dropped and walked to the stock lofts. I got up and opened the doors, they walked in and took up their places as if they had been there all of their lives. The sun had long gone under but the golden light remained to play across the garden. I sat in my deckchair waiting; I knew I had to wait, but what for - I had no idea.
I felt his presence behind me but something warned me not to turn around. "I have driven you to the edge of insanity, taken away from you your beloved pigeons. You questioned why and screamed obscenities at yourself but you never blamed Me. You have it all back now and the pigeons in your lofts now shall bring you fame and fortune. You will remember nothing of this until you are about to die". The blue cock and the white hen flew off, the light faded and I was left sitting in my deckchair and slowly drifted into sleep.
I am 95 years old now and when I tell this story to my great grandchildren, they listen with their eyes wide open - scared silly, as they believe it to be a ghost story; maybe it is. One little boy stays behind when the others have gone to play. He would pepper me with questions about the blue cock and the white hen. I then have to relate parts of the story repeatedly to him. I have found him several times standing alone by himself staring at the painting of the blue cock and the white hen. Yes, they appeared on the canvas the day they left. The other children found him strange and often made fun of him. He wore a glove on right hand to hide the birthmark; he was born with a bright blue mark that resembled some ancient writing no one could decipher. The boy had been scrutinised by doctors, religious scholars and holy men from every denomination but none-could decode the symbols. Whenever he came to visit, he would remove the glove and I would hold his hand; the feeling that radiated from it, gave me a sense of peace and strength. He told me how some nights he could see his hand glowing in the dark and of a man with strange coloured eyes that would come to tell him stories. At first I could not understand the boy, but slowly I began to remember weird things that happened to me a long time ago. His parents thought it strange that the boy would sit and talk to me for hours, while the other children played outside. My son in law thought his son was a freak because of his hand and that he knew the answers to questions his father was about to ask him. He was also against the boyís obsession with pigeons and wanted him to play cricket. He bought a cricket bat and handed it to the youngster; saying that they should go outside to play ball. Handing the bat to his son, he took up his position to bowl the first ball. The boy took off the glove, took the bat in his right hand and the bat burst into flames. Dropping the burning willow, the boy turned and went to his pigeon loft, leaving his father standing there shivering with fear. From that day, his father left him alone and avoided the boy as much as he could. My daughter, her marriage now strained, told the boy that his father would be leaving because of him. That night the boy entered the room of his sleeping parents and with his glowing right hand touched the forehead of his father. My daughter woke up and witnessed her son touching his father, whose whole body was surrounded by a blue light. Turning to his mother the boy smiled and said, "everything will be okay now mom", and left the room. The next day his father visited the pigeon loft for the first time and since then he shared his sonís love for pigeons.
You have travelled with me from one bizarre moment to the next as this story twisted and turned. I have seen the tunnel coming so my time has come, where to, I donít know - but afraid I am not. I donít expect you to believe any of what I have written; the choice is yours but what does a dying old man stand to gain by lying to you on his deathbed. My grandson will take over the lofts when I am gone as he is the chosen one.
I am sitting in my favourite chair now looking at the painting of the blue and the white hen; they are no longer alone, the canvas now shows an old man holding the right hand of a young boy. They are standing looking down at the two pigeons - smiling. The blue cock and the white hen have just landed on the windowsill and my friend with the changing eyes has entered the room. I think it is time for me to go so I will say goodbye.
"Well old friend, the time has come for us to make the final journey", the Ďeye sign maní said. The blue and the white hen fly onto my shoulders, I see the tunnel coming. The man with the strange eyes holds out his hand to me, I take it and we enter the spinning tunnel. I see a blinding light rush towards us, I feel its warmth as it gently pulls us into the unknown.