The Poetic Path to Self–Destruction: Chapter 4, Conclusion

Addison didn’t realize it, but he slept for much longer than he had intended. His alarm had been beeping every five minutes since 6:30 that morning but he didn’t take notice until 1:15. He slowly got out of bed, almost like a sleepwalker. He floated into the bathroom, still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. He suddenly had the energy to change into fresh clothing, but he lacked the will. He hovered in front of the sink, about to pick up his toothbrush when it flew gently past his hand, into his awaiting mouth. He watched in the mirror as his teeth brushed, then flossed, themselves. Addison left the bathroom and headed for the front door. He was late for school, but none of his teachers would mind. The doorknob turned itself and the door opened without Addison’s intervention. He floated out of his house, and into the bright, afternoon sun.

Addison had left his watch on his nightstand. It read 1:23. It was dark outside.

About two blocks away from where he hovered, he noticed a brilliant white light. It was the most magnificent light that he had ever seen. A perfect being, right in front of him. He suddenly understood, he felt, religion; he felt sorry for the way that he had treated Daniel and Leonard. They were good friends to him. The light, this earthstar, remained perfectly still, though Addison noticed that it was growing ever so slightly. He increased his pace, hovering towards it faster now, trying to reach it as soon as he possibly could. He had the increasing urge to touch it. He wanted to feel it, to understand it, to be one with it. He continued to float in its direction at a constant speed. He was directly in front of it, right in the middle of the road. The earthstar was about one block away from him now. He couldn’t wait until it was in his hand. How big was it? What would it feel like? He had to know. As he drew ever nearer, he realised that it was also moving towards him with a great deal of speed. It was meant to be. He continued to fly towards the light. So close now.

Stumbling down the middle of the road at 1:26 in the morning, Addison didn’t see the transport truck’s headlights blinding him, nor did he hear the driver’s last-minute attempt to wake him with the blaring of his horn. Almost there. He reached his arm out to touch the light. The trucker swerved, digging his foot into the brakes, but it was too late. He felt it. The brilliance of the white light enveloped his peripheral vision, and swallowed his being whole. What was left of Addison Mannict was now gone.