Something wasn’t quite right. There he sat with those all around. Those very familiar, and in this case, very close. Yet somehow, they all felt so far away. An eternity away, in fact. The room included himself as well as several dozen of them, but that made no difference now. The world seemed to fade around him. With every long exhale, the darkness swelled around his field of vision; suffocating it, slowly and almost unnoticeably until all that was visible was the small point of light in front of him.

His heart beat with such intensity within him that he found it odd that he managed to somehow hold on to consciousness at all. He clutched the wood within his hand before him, fighting back the dread of what was to come. This experience was difficult enough to cope with, even though he wasn’t quite sure why. Something important was lost, but he felt that it may have been years before. Again, a moment of clarity, minus the racing thoughts, and the feeling of immediate dread once again overcomes. Only he knows the agonizing sorry about to be forced upon those around him. Like a full glass tipped to it’s side, he feels his soul has been poured into this. More appropriately, at this point anyway, like a full glass tipped over into a vast sea. Slight disruption, but instantly, the larger body absorbs the flow. As if it never occurred. Such is the way of the world, and indeed the way of life.

Again, the apprehension. Utter joy and remembrance, coupled with the reality before them. He fears the reaction of them, but more importantly, he is concerned of his own. How will that affect them? Why has he done this? It seemed so appropriate just days before, but now? He wonders. And worries. He worries of this creation and the result. The reality is that it was the only way for him to cope, yet he has yet to understand this.

His heart is nearly leaping out of his chest by now. And it begins.

This creation of his.