Keturah can feel herself moving, without effort, as if she is floating. But to where? Where is she, currently, and to where is she going? She strains to make out her surroundings, but finds that, no matter how hard she tries, she cannot find definition in her environment. Everything is just a blur of movement, interrupted by short glimpses of random objects that momentarily flash in front of her eyes, before disappearing again… bird, butterfly, field of flowers, brook, otter, tree…. The images seem unconnected, and she struggles to find meaning in them.
Then she hears an eerie voice hauntingly calling out to her like the sirens of old that beckoned sailors to steer their ships toward the rocks where they met their fate and perished.
“Adam, Adam, Adam….”
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