A brilliant blue light, the sering pain burns through his arm. Scarlet is such a beautiful color he thinks to himself as he sees blood pour out of the remnants of his arm. A haze envelops his vision giving everything a heavenly glow.
Now collapsed on the ground gasping for breath, taking in more dirt then air. He struggles for a moment the rolls over on his back. Gazing at the stars he feels his chest slowly fill with his own bodies fluids. A dark and blurry figure stands above him. He can't see who it is but somehow he knows who it.
A cold steel blade is plunged into his shoulder. He coughs and sprays blood, moaning in pain. "I don't know why your not dead", the figure says. The blade is ripped out and once again thrust into him, this time into his stomach, "but, I'm enjoying every second of it!" exclaims the figure. The figure takes a seat next to him in the tall cool grass. Between the sharp pains caused by his breath he feels the index finger of the figure swirling around on his chest playing with the blood. He heard the occasional contented giggle come from the figure. Sitting, playing ,and pleased with the job they had done.
As always I remain,
The Destroyer of Worlds
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2 comments:
This is how I imagine my death will be.
Very graphic, very well written
Great post Theodore.
Why thank you Dan
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