Black and red

  And in the last dying moments. Time will come. Life will end. All will be silent and the light that emitted was all that was left. 
  The light formed an orb around that which was caught among it. Beyond, all was black, a most complete and unendless black. Within the borders of the light? A hand, leg, arm, hair, blood. It trailed and swirled like snails trail. Lost with no direction.
  Sound? The ringing. Ever it was constant, fluctuating but well and truely constant. Why was it there? Like sight it left confusion. Like the black there was no reason for it. Like the blood there was no explanation for it. How was he to find or understand when what surrounded him and locked him in was not common to him?
  He followed the confusing trail of blood. Over concrete and pavement he followed it. Sometimes there was grass, other times tarred gravel. But never did he find himself heading in a specific direction.
  The trail seemed to loop back on itself and head off at odd angles. It was reflected and rafracted when a tree or wall was encountered. The light that surrounded seemed to get darker and smaller the further he wandered. His vision becoming hazy and blurred.
  He lurched and fell to his knees, gripping at his chest and ribs. His hands would become wet and soaked, but what wet him could not be accurately identified. There was no rain that night. There never was or will to be. Clutching with one hand and supporting himself with the other he coughed and spluttered, sight completely lost to him.
  With lack of sight, the black claimed him and content took him to his master. No light was found and none was needed.