He found himself in an unacquainted place. The clouds were strolling under his feet. In his surroundings, the girls who were looking immortally young, with their hair beautifully shaped in wigs, played the musical instruments that he had never seen. Something was swimming across in the air towards him. He recognized what it was. That was his old, shabby and worn out hat. He caught it up and put it on his head, pulling it down a little more on the right side until it covered up enough his life-long old scar at his right eye. Suddenly, a shrill ghostly voice appeared from some corner of this strange place, “Sic semper tyrannis” (Thus always to tyrants).
He started to notice a twilight that flashed at a mysterious place at some distance of his eye sight. He began walking towards this mysterious light. The shrill voice seemed to be getting far and far away as he walked forth. He wished this voice of evil nature should completely fade away. As the worn-out hat that topped his head, his life had been ruffled out since his very young childhood.
“All my life has a single cause, that is an apology for the government of the people, for the people, and by the people”, he said in remembrance of his past soul. He voice was full of melancholy. He started to blab out a few stanzas that his past soul adored the most,
“Tis the wink of an eye, ‘tis the draught of a breath,
From the bosom of health to paleness of death
From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud,
Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?”
He remembered the beauty of the bouquet he dropped off at the tomb of Ann. He remembered the witted tease of Mary in her younger years. At last, he even remembered the denial he accepted at his age of 32 from a sixteen year old Sarah. All these have been left together with his past soul of soberness. No one was with him now in going to this mysterious twilight. He eagerly hoped that probably already late Ann should be there at this light source.
“Yes, honest Abe, no one from the past is with you. However, I have been with you, all the time”, he heard a very dignified voice. He saw a figure walking in the fog, steadily toward him. The figure was as tall as he was, around six-feet two inches, the shoulders were broad, the bones and joints were large, and the gait of the figure had no need to boast of the distinctive characters and strength of the figure person. He saw the figure’s face now: a well-shaped face with a firm chin, a prominent nose with blue gray penetrating eyes. His noble strong hand was holding a rosary wreath.
“O, Founding father, Washington”, he recognized the figure and stuck his head into the well-rounded chin of the figure and wept.
“Where I am now, Father?”
Abe said in ambiguity, “My past soul has never crushed any human life, Father. I have not ever sent a single soul of the Southern rebels to the guillotine. I never have killed an animal for sake of my food”.
(To be cont.