THE FINAL DESTINATION

BY ODIN HEUGH

I was immersed in another man's story, 

another man's imagination 

until a knock

gently returned me to reality

Beyond the door stood a man, 

dressed in black,

face devoid of kindness 

or cruelty,

with only the quiet certainty 

of someone who had never mistaken 

patience, for waiting.

He never introduced himself.

He didn't have to.

Some strangers 

are recognized

long before they are met.

The room grew still.

The air settled heavily upon my chest,

each breath feeling less like a gift 

and more like something

I had borrowed for too long.

The clocks continued their tireless march, 

yet time itself seemed unwilling.

to take another step.

He spoke no words, 

offered no explanation,

and never once asked me to follow.

Yet refusal felt impossible.

Not because I trusted him,

but because somewhere beneath every 

heartbeat, beneath my very existence 

I had always known

My encounter with this man

would come.

Ignoring every warning 

my mother had ever given me,

I entered his car.

We drove through streets 

that slowly forgot my name.

Past playgrounds 

where laughter lingered

long after the children had gone.

Past open fields 

where my childhood 

still wandered,

untouched by the years

that had quietly claimed me.

Neither of us spoke.

Some truths 

lose their meaning

the moment they are given a voice.

Outside,

the world continued without permission.

The wind carried on.

Trees surrendered their leaves.

The stars arrived 

without announcing themselves.

Life, 

I realized,

had never paused for anyone.

At last,

we stopped before a house 

resting patiently within the earth, 

its door neither welcoming 

nor forbidding. 

Simply waiting, 

as it always had.

Some truths 

lose their meaning

the moment they are given a voice.

Outside,

the world continued without permission.

The wind carried on.

Trees surrendered their leaves.

The stars arrived 

without announcing themselves.

Life, 

I realized,

had never paused for anyone.

At last,

we stopped before a house 

resting patiently within the earth, 

its door neither welcoming 

nor forbidding. 

Simply waiting, 

as it always had.

Only then

did I truly understand.

Death had never come 

to steal my life.

It had only come 

to collect

what was never mine to keep.