The Death Posture

In the next room there is a faint cry from a woman who fades rapidly. My horror and curiosity draw me to the front door. On the other side of its mirror threshold a man waits for me. His countenance mutates and changes the nature of the world. He forces me into the Death Posture. Prone before the mirror I experience an ineffable transubstantiation. I regret his gift of oblivion. A single moment of reflection, panic and terror then an unconscious journey and evaporation. The Death Posture offers no time for awareness or knowledge. I cry desperately for help, but in the next room all they hear is a faint cry from a man who fades rapidly