Don’t Go!

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!”

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the hanged man

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.

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