Snapshot Essay #1

I had come out of hiding to examine the man whose death I just witnessed. I stood motionless, barely breathing; staring at the man’s lifeless corpse as blood still flowed from the wound in the back of his neck. I took another step closer, careful to avoid the red liquid that had begun to collect in the crevices of the cobblestone street. I had never seen anyone die before and was shocked to see so much of this man flowing away. Echoes of combat still resonated in my head; and I stood over the man, dazed by the chaos of his death.

I spun around nervously, expecting to see someone standing there. Again I heard the dull thud of a blade, as it found its mark; and the hallow crack that followed, as the man fell limply to the ground. I closed my eyes and tried to shake the sounds from my head. Again I saw the man’s contorted face and the glint steel. My eyes popped open and I found myself unable to move despite the overwhelming desire to flee. The confrontation had left its mark and I could not rid myself of the memory. The scene seemed to play out over and over in my head, always followed by a green flash.

A sharp ache bubbled up in my stomach and pulled me back into reality. All at once, the smells and sounds of the public square returned. I gazed nervously towards the square and began to search the dead man for anything of value. I managed to find the man’s coin purse and dagger, both of which I took without hesitation. I picked up the man’s heavy sword and ran my fingers along its edge, tracing the fresh chinks in its surface. Another flashback replayed. I tried to remain calm and allowed the event to play out in its entirety. My hands moved slowly along the blade as I witnessed each thrust and swing. The detail was staggering. I could see everything that had transpired and always the scene was followed by a green flash. I tried to focus on the flash in an attempt at comprehending its meaning. “Where is it coming from?” I would mumble quietly. The scene would play out the same, the man would fall down dead, the winner would turn him over, followed by the green flash, and the vision would end. My inability to decipher a meaning seemed to indicate something unfinished, and I was left with an overwhelming sense of curiosity. For a moment I forgot about the man lying lifeless at my feet and all I could think about was the color green. It seemed as if the color was alive in its own right. When I return to the moment, it is always the same; I feel bathed in green light, completely comfortable and confident in its projection.

To this day I remain confused as to the significance the color green had in my experience. By returning to the moment many times I have decided that the light was the resonation of an object. The nature of the object is beyond my comprehension, but it must be a relic of intense power.