The brown grass crunches beneath my feet. There is death here. Nothing else. A river of dust pours across the bank. The air smells deeply of must. I take a seat and breathe deeply. The apparitions dance before my eyes. A familiar voice calls out; "You've been here before." I nod in understanding. This place was, is, my home. I reach down to the dry soil, now shifting like sand in the wake of a great tsunami. The dirt speaks. "When you were young, you became the heir to our fortune. Take what's yours." I close my eyes.
My fingers, hands, arms, evaporate into cobwebs. My toes, feet, legs, dissolve into thin air. One moment, I was whole, and now, You couldn't tell I was ever there.