Elle woke up dead, in a pool of her own blood, on the floor of Atlanta’s underground station at Peachtree. Her body lay abandoned in the cavernous space. She had always loved the large rock walls. They were romantic, like a gothic cavern, but now seeing her corpse sprawled alone on the tiled floor the space felt like a large crypt. Her green eyes had remained open as her heart stopped, but she wasn’t seeing with her eyes. She was watching what was happening from outside her body. She mainly saw details. The dirty bottoms of her bare feet. The tight, black cocktail dress clinging to her lithe body everywhere but the front where it had been cut open from sternum to navel. The creamy skin of her face reflected in the mirrorlike puddle of blood slowing expanding under her. Her dark brown, meticulously straightened hair was soaked with it. It clumped together as her head lifted from the ground. Her body slowly levitated off the slick floor. There was no one else in the tunnel, her attackers had fled as soon as their gun went off. Yet something was lifting her body off the ground. In the fog of this vision she was having, she sensed large black feathers. Crows were carrying her on their backs. Her body flew, carried by a flock of crows. The last thing she saw before finally surrendering, were their wraithlike wings. She had a moment to wonder that in the end it was not all darkness like she had imagined. Not black nothingness, but light that enveloped her with warmth and peace. Her final thought before succumbing to it was, this is good.

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