• His fate... stolen from him, with the swift peal of thunder.
    His sight... fading from him, with one last blink of terror.
    His heart... dropping from him, with one last slow beat.
    His life... snatched from him, with one faint whistle of a flute.
    The flute, the music, the only thing that did not die away. The only thing keeping him alive. But, with a twitch of pain, he realized he did not want it. He did not want to be kept here. He did not want to be amongst the living anymore. Anything must be better than this limbo. This purgatory. To be exiled from the consciousness, yet to feel the pain of his body. Anything must be better than this horrid comatose. He needed to escape it. Escape it or die. And the second option was the easier.
    But, how would he allow it? As death danced before his vision, as it was an easy option, how could he allow it to take him? He couldn't did such a thing to his loved ones, to those he valued more than anything.
    He was stuck in a different kind of limbo. Indecision.
    But, perhaps, both options could be taken from him?
    And as the flutes tone's died away into one loud monotone. One eerie beep. He realized it was his heartbeat. Was his mind alive but his body dead? Why had his pain not died away along with the flute?
    Could he possibly be undead?