As the push toward the fence at the front seemed inevitable, I realised I was going to die. At that point, the panic inside me seemed to subside, and a great feeling of inner calm came.
Perhaps this is the subconscious mind making a person ready for the prospect of oblivion, easing you out, so to speak. It was, in a disquieting way, pleasant. And as nice as it was, this moment of transcendence, I can do without it, for many years to come, thanks. Some say “there’s no such thing as an atheist in a lifeboat” . I never thought of God or asked for his help. It never occurred to me, not once.
I don’t know for what reason, but I could move a little suddenly. Being so absorbed with preparations for my own demise, I hadn’t noticed that the pen had significantly emptied, just enough. I suppose a number had spilled onto the pitch by this time. I turned my head.
When I looked around, there was a dead man lying behind me. I knew he was dead, because I saw my father when he died, about 15 months earlier, and it’s that look. There’s nothing there.
Just a shell, the human being has departed, and the body has no relevance.
I can tell you that man’s name as I see his face in the photographs.
I won’t though, unless somebody needs to know, and nobody has asked me.
Behind him was a winding trail.
A gap through people; a way out, and I took it.
I used to wake up in the middle of the night and I could smell that aroma. I can only describe it as the smell of fear, a pungent substance that is produced deep down from inside the human body and filled the air around me."