Óshún Unearthed ✔

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   Dying doesn't kill me, but it takes something much more precious.

Memories of my existence.

As Sandra cries, my consciousness slips out of my hand faster than I can blink. Soon, I am in total darkness.

It has happened, again.

I am dead.

The realisation comes with the warmest of breezes lapping against my skin, Sandra's cries long gone.

Opening my eyes, recognition of where I am plants a sad smile on my face.

I am no longer on earth.

Just like, the previous times it happened, I find myself in a corridor made of bronze walls with delicate silver intricate designs, masterly crafted with different colors of wool, hanging from all around it.

The first time I found myself here, I thought I was in heaven because hell couldn't possibly be this beautiful.

But I was wrong.

This isn't heaven.

It couldn't be heaven.

This place is full of sadness and pain, yet in a way, beautiful.

Just like my first time here, the magic of the place begins to pull me deeper into the never ending corridor.

As I move, the light which only hovers above me, like an enchanted spotlight, showers golden rays of light unto my skin and the tiled floor directly beneath me. Yes, it makes the whole place magical but the shushing sound that haunts this place steals that magic away.

I continue my never ending trek and for now, it is quiet. Only the light welcomes me, like it recognises my presence.

Placing my palms on the wall as I move, I notice my skin is golden in color. Normally, I have a sort of light brown caramel skin. Sandra says, I have the skin of an African goddess. I know, she only says that to make me happy. Gods and goddesses aren't even suppose to be real.

But in here— right now, I believe Sandra.

My skin gives off a golden glow, as I caress the cold texture of this strange wall I keep finding myself in whenever I— whenever I die.

My lungs collapse and a new pain infiltrates the soft tissue enclosing my heart. He is here.

The sound is almost like a weeping man. A man who has lost something very precious to him.

"Shuuuu. . ."

The shushing fills the air around me, the hurt in the voice adding to the immense pain in my heart.

I drop my hands from the walls and listen in more closely, feeling the pain more closely.

I want to help him.

"Shuuuu. . ."

It comes again, slapping itself into my ears, bringing me more pain. This is why this place can never be heaven.

Heaven is suppose to be a happy place. Yet here I stand, in a beautiful corridor filled with the echoes of a saddened soul.

"Hello?" I call out softly, wanting to console the person.

"OShuuuun. . ." It replies me.

As I make to question the sad soul, the enchanted light above me goes off, followed by the sad voice.