Thursday, November 25, 2004
dead? not yet
Breathe. Gasping for air, I fell back on my haunches. Leaned back against the wall, eyes closed. Then I opened them again. Stared down in front of me where he lay, writhing, fingers reaching, scrabbling at nothing. The bloodlust had faded. Red fountains of warm blood squirted wildly from the gash. Pink flesh so tough, but yet so delicate. I relived the moment when the serrated knife made the first impact, slicing open the chest so easily. Yes… now I realize the magnitude of what I just did. The knife’s handle is still stained with blood. His blood of course. The room began to smell like fresh blood. I breathed deeply. He was still twitching. I continued to watch with child like amusement plastered across my face.
So the bastard is dying. His movements became more sluggish. Blood did not squirt anymore; they merely dribbled out. I waited until the movement ended finally, painfully, slowly. Exhaling, I stood up. Took one last glance at him.
So this is where your story ends… and where mine begins.
Posted by melvin at 9:05 PM