Brian was self-reliant enough to do whatever was good in his own eyes. Eventually he’d have to repent of much of this goodness, but right now the mountain he expected would hold the weight of his imaginings began sliding due to an avalanche of truth.
Down he went clutching onto one esoteric branch of conjectures after the other discovering that every alternative he grabbed onto failed to stop his fall. He could see the smiling mouth of nihilism lick its lips and open its jaws below him.
It was as he absent-mindedly looked into this dread that he was hit by a bus and rushed to an emergency room where he was pronounced dead on arrival. Whether the expert opinion was wrong or whether hell didn’t want him, Brian’s heart began beating with no desire to climb fantasy mountain again.