I sat there crying in the corner. She called a friend to comfort me, but the feel of cold metal piercing through my heart seemed more comforting.
Diet sodas are now being sold in seven ounce cans. I feel a little better knowing that I am drinking death in smaller doses.
Bessie, my white-faced golden retriever, trotted over to greet me with a smile and a wagging tail as she always does. She’s the best dog I’ve ever had, and I only wish I was still alive so I could give her the belly rub she so rightfully deserves.
“What do you think will happen if we all lived forever??” “The same thing that has been happening since we came into existence; killing each other and ruining the environment out of greed”
Most people remember the bright blood stains on the wall. I only remember his laughter, crisp, loud, a beautiful piercing sound-rainbow.
She, a girl with below average looks and brains, always wanted to be famous but was rejected everywhere. Chronically depressed, she jumped off a building and the blood oozing out of her body contoured a Hindu deity on the floor; her prayers were answered.
The man in the white doctor’s coat looks down on me in my hospital bed and sadly shakes his head. The dour-faced nurse with the syringe walks right through him.
She pulled the trigger over and over while shouting every swear word she knew at the Garrity boys.
Barbara ran out of targets before she ran out of bullets and the pistol fell eerily silent in her trembling hands.
My life was ruined by a series of mistakes made and attributable only to me.
Now, I feel like a cut flower in a vase, patiently waiting to die.
The leaves were still. Just as you will always be.
Finally, hours later, when I was able to touch the soft white skin of her beautiful cheek, I felt dead eyes searching me with questions. I had loved her completely but found myself holding her lifeless body by the neck wondering who had written the words on the mirror.
I saw the sniper’s muzzle flash a kilometer off, but the bullet moved faster than me. I only had time enough to think, “I shouldn’t have come to Afghanistan.”
It isn’t so much that I always wake up with a hangover and blacked out from a hard night of drinks and drugs that bothers me.
It’s that I always wake up.
“Good luck on your first day of school honey!” my mom yelled from the kitchen. Today would have been five years since cancer took her away from me.
Drunk, the boys took out a revolver— imitating the infamous Russian Roulette scene from “The Deer Hunter”. It ended sooner than they thought.
He watched in terror as the Nembutal was pushed into his veins.
A moment later his fear disintegrated into oblivion.
For her final act, Maria pulls a rabbit out of her hat. The rabbit explodes—killing everyone in the venue.
She stroked her fingers though his hair and stared lovingly into his eyes before letting out a short, light sigh and falling asleep. He pulled the knife out, wiped it, and left.
I walked past gibbering madness, blank stares, hollow shells of men, and found the girl huddled in the corner. My diplomatic offer of flowers was met with a scream, a recoil, and a whisper: “They’re still alive, and I can hear their dying screams…”
I gripped at my heart, where the bullet had passed through, as if I could undo the action and survive once more.
But I couldn’t, so I thought of Her as I died alone.