Mark is dying.

He could still hear new messages pouring in on his iPhone, like huge drops of water hitting a metal surface. It was the only thing he could listen to through the chaos around him. He had realized what had just happened—an accident. A stranger appeared in front of his face and looked into his eyes; a few other faces leaned over him. Shortly after, an ambulance appeared, and the only thing he could now see was the nurse and doctor talking quickly with each other while sliding a tube down his throat and, finally injecting something into his veins.

He suddenly felt warm, as if he had been chillin' all day under the scorching sun on a lost beach on the Atlantic coast. The silence felt undeniably real, a deep absolute silence that underlies the fabric of reality. Other memories of being on this beach flooded his mind, memories of many summer nights dancing on terraces with pretty ladies till sunrise. A flood of souvenirs swept over him as if the gates of his soul had been cleansed, and he could see every moment he had lived all at once, in an instant. Then, when the stream of images ended, a light appeared, just like the sun after an eclipse, and quickly intensified to swallow everything.

He felt free, released from the baggage of memories and people he had grown familiar with. It was all like a dream, the kind that lingers for a few minutes in the morning but then fades off as soon as you open the window. Nothing mattered anymore; it never had.
I read this one first. It's more powerful, having read it a 2nd time -- in order this time -- imagining the vitriolic messages appearing on his phone as he lay there dying. 
2023-02-15 03:12:40
Thank you for reading , I have a fascination recently with last moments of a human life.
2023-02-15 21:42:30