The Light at the End of the Tunnel Read Free

a
white-haired man dressed in black, like a minister, enter. His mind
returned to the idea of reincarnation…would it work? The
minister-looking guy appeared at his side, “Les Paul,” the man
said, “Are you ready to meet your Lord?
    Les Paul turned his head and made
eye-contact, “I want to be reincarnated.”
    The minister’s eyes widened briefly before he
answered, “I have no power to give you such a wish as
reincarnation. We mortals don’t really know what lies on The Other
Side.”
    “What power do you have?”
    “I have no power. I’m here only to give
you…,” the minister hesitated again; his eyes widened again, and
his brow rose, slightly. Les Paul wondered if he had touched some
sort of nerve in the man. The minister finally continued, “…to,
administer a final prayer for you.”
    “But you can ask, can’t you?”
    Again the chaplain’s eyes widened very
briefly, then he blinked, twice, then he laid his hand on his
chest, and patted, “That’s a request I cannot make. Now, are you
ready to meet your Lord?”
    “Sure, what-the-fuck?” Les Paul turned his
head back and gazed at the ceiling. The chaplain began reading a
Bible verse. Les Paul heard but did not listen to the words until
the end: “May God have mercy on your soul. Amen.”
    He barely mouthed his response, “Sure,
whatever-the-fuck-ever.” Through peripheral vision he saw the
warden nod. Here it comes . He smiled, and felt the drugs
entering him, and felt his world speeding up. Like a jet
plane— what a ride!— plastering him against the seat. The
buzzing in his head grew louder and faster…
    For a few seconds he felt himself rising from
the table. He looked back. His unmoving body was there. His eyes
were open… where am I…? He felt like he was moving, leaving
the prison— Good! I’m going somewhere! But, not, really. He
felt himself being squeezed, like, from a tube, except he wasn’t
leaving the tube, he was entering, becoming smaller, and smaller,
and smaller, and sma…
    His awareness left him.

     
    Interlude

    The execution took place without incident.
The warden would continue his duties and look forward to his
approaching retirement, when he could spend more quality time with
his son and daughters and grandchildren. The chaplain returned to
the chapel basement intending to look again at the book—to satisfy
himself that he really had seen and read such a thing—before
approaching another religious authority.
    The wall was as plain and empty as it always
had been. No locker and no book. For a few seconds the chaplain
felt his blood run cold. It felt like a huge goosepimple had filled
his entire body. If his hair could have turned another shade
whiter, it would have.
    My Lord, that surely was Your true
word .
     
     
    Chapter 4 First Evil Act

    Three months went by. Les Paul was swimming
in a warm pool of amniotic fluid, but quite often found he didn’t
have as much room as he would like. In his growing new brain,
though, it took him another three months to realize why he
didn’t have enough room. He was not alone.
    The other presence was larger and softer, and
rarely moved. Les Paul had nothing even close to functioning
thoughts and emotions, but his hands somehow knew he had to get rid
of the other presence. With the tiny amount of sensation he had,
his hands realized they both had an appendage on their stomach. The
other presence was so close. Without cognizant thought he grasped
the other appendage and wrapped it around the neck of the other
presence, and pulled it tight.
    The other presence struggled. Its arms and
legs jerked and kicked but made no serious attempt to fight, and
soon was still, but continued taking too much room. Les Paul was—of
course—not yet developed enough to feel emotion, so often his body
just did what was necessary. He seized the other’s appendage and
bit it and jerked it and pulled, until it parted and began spewing
another liquid. He grabbed the end spewing and put it into