As unofficial house-poet of a borderline accredited girl’s junior college, Schwaa U’u had committed many acts that would almost certainly have been considered socially unacceptable outside the confines of the ivory tower. Such was the charismatic seediness of his reputation, that when, following his death by mystery, it was found his entire body of work consisted of little more than a handful of largely inscrutable bits of esoterica, the legend of his eccentric genius was assured.
Without wealth my darling, little American girl quietly died
my private option
I was waiting for the bus.
Then it hit me!
Daniel sat on a grassy hillock overlooking the town and sighed contentedly, peacefully, as a lazy breeze caressed the grass around him. It was a good way to spend his last three minutes alive.
Time has the final word.
Usually it is “didn’t you know you only get one attempt?”
I drove past a car accident on the way back from Axedale today.
A car had tailgated me earlier and I had wished they would crash.
I didn’t say his death was “inevitable”.
I said it was “enviable”.
He heard them saying something about an accident and a time of death, as he lay there staring helplessly at a host of people, doctors and nurses he assumed, with masks on their faces and gloves on their hands.
As a noisy, whining machine was powered off above his head, and as the doctors and nurses walked away discussing what would be for lunch, he lay there, unable to move, breath, or even blink, trying to scream, “No wait, don’t go away!”
“You and your ethics, you can’t do it,” the Joker gurgled as he dangled over the side of the building.
“Fuck ethics,” Batman finally decided, and he let go.
I wonder how many miles I am from my future grave.
Is it here in Australia or on the other side of the world?
The platform snaps open beneath the man’s brown shoes, and in an instant those shoes disappear as his neck pops against the noose, his feet swinging and clapping together. The crowd about August cheers — or perhaps they only give murmurs of approval; the world awaiting death is oft more quiet than that of life.
Do you think those who jump from high places to their death experience something close to transcendence?
Do those brief seconds stretch on forever?
I killed the butterfly.
That should teach the rest about making those damn hurricanes all the time.
You know, the end of my life is approaching at speed and so I really don’t have time to sit around with you.
I’m not saying see you later because that ain’t ever happening.
I got a scare a few weeks ago when confronted by my own mortality.
I feel much better now thanks to your brand experience.
It was only later we realised how weird it was.
We had all called him tumour-head years before he actually got head cancer.
They met online, emailed, talked on the phone for over a year, and finally, they were going to meet. Her heart pounded as she sat waiting, her hand in her pocket on the gun she would use to kill the man who had lured her baby sister to her death.
There was a power failure the night that my mother died; adding insult to injury. Stumbling around in the dark looking for, matches, a candle, a glimmer of hope of ever feeling happy again seemed appropriate for our state of mind.
Attention is a click of heels, perfect creases, heads lifted, jaws set, and chests filled proudly with the hope of doing something good and right.
Four months later, heels click again, heads lift and jaws set as we wait for the gun salute in much shorter lines.
The chicken didn’t ponder long before venturing out into the heavy 5 o’clock traffic on the busiest road in this country town. All she had wanted was to get to the other side to feast on the sack of corn that had flown off of the feed truck, but she had not really considered, as is the way with chickens, that she might get squashed flat by a refrigerated truck on its way to the local Publix to deliver – what else – chickens.