Boston—time unspecified
Johnny Givens ran for all he was worth. He ran and he ran and he ran. His lungs banged at the side of his chest, but still he ran.
The night was deep black, so dark that the landscape had no features. He was in a field or a city or even the woods, it was impossible to tell; he saw only blackness.
Then ahead, on the horizon, a bar of light.
He ran toward it. It gradually grew as he approached, rising up at a slow pace. It was as if a curtain were being lifted, black giving way to pure white.
Run! Run!