Déjà Vu - Part 1

  He was cold now. He could see nothing but the darkness that had invaded his vision. Blood oozing out slowly from above his ears and coloring the white sandstone pavement red. He could hear voices inside his head. A sharp beep, almost irritating and the occasional murmurs of people who had gathered around him. As he lay near-lifeless on the pavement, he tried to recall his life. The life that hadn't been bad so far.He had visions, visions of the things and the people. Those things and the people who had a certain importance in his life. His white marble floored house, his red-bricked convent school, his mother making pancakes while wearing her favorite aprons, his father sitting in his customary grandeur in the wooden chair, his girlfriend smiling exactly the same smile which had floored him on that Annual Day, his sister who playing hide-and-seek with him. As he lay there on those red bricks of that white sandstone pavement, he waited to see that flash of light that people say you see just a moment before you die. But that light never came. He started having visions of the things that his sub-conscious mind had photographed today. 
   A honey-bee buzzing on the window glass, a patch of mud on his car, the beige checkered coat of his father, the clock on the tower showing 6:30 PM, the golden orange lillies that he saw in the garden near the lakeside.
   As he was slowly slipping into the darkness, he heard his name being called. Among the murmurs and the strange thumping noises that were overwhelming his senses, he tried to focus on that voice. It wasn't a strange one. The sheer softness and soothing nature of that voice suggested it came from someone close to him. He felt something on his hand, as if someone was shaking it, trying to revive him, trying to pull him back from the oblivion.