Tag: death

He was only four feet shy of the air conditioner when he fell to the floor suffering from a heat stroke. It was that exact second in time that he realized he had wasted too many precious moments in his short thirty years of life.

A thousand and five thoughts were whirring through his head, among the most logical, number seventy seven was a wondering about only having felt his heart beat three times in the twenty seconds previous. Number fourteen was less rational considering the cirumstances, ‘pepperoni or capricciosa?’

He came into this world with a triumphant howl and as I cradled him in my arms I cried tears of joy. He left this this world for another realm and as I cradled his head once more I bent my head over him letting the tears of sorrow wash over his face.

When I was a child, hide-and-seek was my favourite game: I relished the thrill of being chased, and evading capture.

I killed him to keep that thrill alive, now the police are “it.”

Struggling for a muse did I stumble forth into the gibbering maw of the world. I fell into the Grave clutching the baby-blue journal that freed my soul and the brick that both chained It and mashed my head in.

A small smile played on his lips as he thought back to the moment he had taken her life and how it filled him with utter satisfaction to press his thumbs deep into her throat as she tried to cry out and how with each breath wasted on cries for help he would press his fingers tighter in a cold calculating squeeze until finally her body went lifeless filling him with the power of her death. His smile faded as he snapped out of his memories upon hearing the metal bars of his cage slide shut confining him for the rest of his natural life or until they decided if he was worthy of the needle.

A single tear slid down his cheek, uncomfortable emotions clogged his throat, and anger pulsed at the injustice of it all when the tiny, perfect hand clasped his finger. With a frustrated sigh, he hugged the baby close, stood, and cast a last look at the carnage that represented two ruined lives, before walking around the lifeless body and handing the precious bundle to the waiting social worker.

After seventeen long days of a trial that had been postponed for two long and brutal years, she finally had her chance to ask the defendant one question that has been burned in her brain since the day she found his body.

“Who the hell gave you the right to play God with my father’s life?” she screamed, crying, as she swatted the taste clean out of the murderer’s mouth.