Pop.
The phone turned through two complete circles in the air as it slipped from his hand and fell to the floor.
Confusion.
He’d felt a pop. Now he was cold, but he could feel warmth. He looked down and saw the source of the warmth, it’s crimson shadow spreading from the hole in his newly pierced gut.
The pop he had felt had been the pop of his own flesh yielding to the tip of the long, slim knife in the old man’s hand. The old man was saying something, his lips moving but no sound reaching the younger man‘s ear. He fell forward into the old man’s embrace as the life followed his blood and slowly seeped from his body. His head slowly came to rest on the old man’s shoulder. As he closed his eyes for the last ever time he finally heard the old man’s words, whispered into his ear. Those last two words becoming, for him, his own personal eternity.
“I’m sorry.”
_________
Next chapter.
Previous chapter.
Chapter select.
__________
No comments:
Post a Comment