Korridorium

♫ Beyond Reach ♫

76/398

I enter the corridor. It will be my final walk. I cast a brief glance back at my cell, at the leftovers on the tray. The executioner and a clergyman—who has nothing personal to say, but only murmurs Bible verses to himself—accompany me. And my angels. Those radiant figures that no one but me can see; they came to visit me after long months in this cell, suddenly appearing, and they haven’t left me since.

I hear the soughing of their long, delicate wings and their whispers. Their hoarse, sighing whispers, of which I could never understand a word. And yet—no, at this very moment: Didn’t one of them whisper directly into my ear? Softly, barely a breath, but still intelligible? Or is it just my mind, made unreliable by long confinement, imagining it heard something—a word, a final personal one intended only for me, a message for me alone: Now!