• My eyes open, my hands reach, my feet kick. The light drifts away, and I scream for one last chance at life. The waters surface is so far away, but so beautiful. I reach again, trying to get my hand to break the surface, but it is hopeless. I sink and sink, my body finally laying on the sandy bottom.
    This was my last look at life. This was my beautiful death. My hair engaged with sea weed, and my black, embroidered, silk dress flowing as if it didn’t understand the pain I was feeling as my life, slowly, was erased.
    I had but a minuet before death finally came, and took my hand. And with that minuet, I saw every face I had ever exchanged words with, every smile I ever was given, and all the love that I was able to see, to feel, to hold. I know this was not how I wanted to end, but it would mean peace. I felt death. His cold breath, his black heart, his loveless soul.
    I did not fight when he took me. I did not try to make it to the surface as the fish taunted me, as they laughed. I did nothing, but smile. Smile at my death, and all its beauty. I new I was to die. Of course, I didn’t know when but, we all die.
    You know that question? What is it like to die? Well here is the truth. Death is beautiful. Your skin goes white. You feel ice cold. And you feel at peace. You know your life was worth living, otherwise you wouldn’t of cried of the thought of having to leave it. People will miss you, but that only means that they will be thinking of you. Of the good and bad times, of your personality, of the hope you brought to people. You will be missed, but also you will be, remembered.