Fear.
A physical fear, sitting deep inside.
Around him - only shadows.
Someone who runs away.
Lying there.
Weakness.
Slow breaths.
Not able to do anything.
Feeling his life flowing out of him.
New shadows. Haste.
Shadows in white, running around him,
helpless, shouting things
he cannot understand.
Among that a pulsing sound,
getting more and more irregular.
Images. Stereotyped.
A flow of images without any order,
though they seem to have some sense, are familiar.
The sound becomes more urgent.
Light.
A long high pitched bleep,
cutting the spreading silence
like a sharp blade.
Then nothing.