They told me it was gonna be easy. They told me it was like going to sleep, but without the waking up part. For when we sleep, is it ourselves that awakens? Or is it a new self?

Every night a death; every morning a birth.

Maybe of a kind. But if that is death, it is not like the death that I have seen. Imagine: Teeth rending your flesh, popping your eyes from their sockets. Your body becomes coated in the tainted excretions of this creature's mouth. I choose to suffocate rather than to inhale that wretched breath.

Deeper, I went. Deeper. Down, down. The wetness of the saliva making my descent smoother for the creature until all was darkness, a dark emptiness. And then, there in the belly of that creature, I knew death. Acid, burning, searing, pressure, undulating around my consciousness. Now separate from my body, I floated out, free of the weavings of my corporeal form - who I was: once bound to every stitch, every fiber. Now flowed free. A light? No. A darkness? Not that either.

What is waiting beyond I cannot tell you. Not because I do not know, but because I cannot say. It is no fear of breaking the rules - no, I will tell you! I cannot. I form the words and they do not connect with my mouth. No. I know until I try to speak, and then I know no longer. No, the moment I stop trying to speak, the memory returns. No, no, no, nooo!

It is in me now, the death is. I will never escape it. But I suppose it will never escape me. Is that new? I suppose it is not. I suppose that now I am only aware in a way that I never was before. A way that maybe now you know as well.

And scene! Thank you very much. This has been Hanksock on death. It was a pleasure reading for you. My name and head shot is in the envelope. Thank you very much.