Tucked deep in the extraordinary Tennessee mountains, my passion is creating stories for people based on their experiences, highlighting their strengths, challenging perspectives, and creating one beautiful moment.
The Execution Of A Demon
Why can’t I just die? Troy sobbed, sticking his fingers deep into his mouth, plunging them into the warm, wet tissue in the back of his throat. With a full-body wretch, the last of the pills he had swallowed spewed out. Please, let me die. He laid his head against the toilet bowl, a long cry escaping his lips. Mucus dripped from his nose and drool ran from his mouth, both joining the procession of tears that fell into the bowl beneath his face. The smell of bile burnt his nose. His lips curled away from his teeth.
A sweet melody filled the night as the air around her thickened. Bursts of light broke through the dark hall as she followed the captivating song. Lyrics drowned in beauty and sorrow pulled her soul, bringing a wave of emotion she hadn't expected. She closed her eyes and let it wash over her.
Two nights have passed since Private Douglas was gunned down, nearly sawed in half by the relentless wave of lead raining down on us. He is gone, yet, I sit here watching his chest rise and fall as if air were feeling his lungs, not the rats burrowing deep eating his flesh. Closing my eyes magnifies the sound of tearing muscle and claw scraping bone. Another wave of bullets, another cry pierces the night as the dull thud of cartridges hitting their mark reminds us all of this hell we can’t escape. Captain barks an order to advance.