It advanced from out of sight, moving with dangerous elegance. Eyes untouched by joy, filled with memories of lifeless things, cursed things. It scowled at me, hating me. Claiming me as its own.
When I died, I entered a place without form or texture - an infinite abstract. Warm light swam between me. Gazing through my falseness and guiding me along a verdant meadow. And then it saved me.