146 As the Crow Dies

Feed me crow. With a side helping of humble pie. Yes, bird and entrails are what I deserve, garnished with an eye-for-an-eye and gnashed teeth.

Just like cancer cures nicotine addiction, the wisdom of imminent death gives me a final perspective, too late to apply to my life--all done and lived. I can only imagine the joys from such perspective, had it been appreciated before now.

Such clarity would have allowed mid-course corrections, but I sail on autopilot now, with trouble ahead: my crash and burn are inevitable. I did what I did, finally spending all the watts that were allotted to me the day I was born. Now my tungsten flickers, in physiologically legislated mortality.

My life? How I lived?

Right? Wrong? Does it matter? It won't soon. Judgment wanes into irrelevance as I lie on my deathbed where all is finalized, settled once and for all, and then filed away.

So, no, it really doesn't matter. The writing's on the wall while the vigil's at my bedside. The jig is up. Time to take inventory, yes; but also time to realize it's just a review and can't be changed.

My obituary will read,

Died peacefully with loved ones by his side...

But no one dies peacefully. It's a jolt.

Everything's been settled, etched in a book — "My Life" — with the burning, hot, caustic calligraphy carved by my last breaths. Some pages clump together, alluding to times I carried on by rote, unappreciative of life's gifts. Some pages are heavily footnoted, now of historical interest only.

My book is about to be closed forever and put up on a shelf, way high out of reach, to collect the same dust other books do that are way high out of reach--compendia of those who needed mortality to teach them what living is.

That high shelf is a squandered reference section, because few seek its wisdom, until they prepare for their own books' publication. We think of ourselves and our lengths--in days and years--as our shelf-life, but we are naïve: it's the wrong shelf!

My new wisdom puts me at peace, sending me home, freeing me from this corporal jail, now that I've been rehabilitated.

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AUTHOR'S NOTES:

"Ubi dubius, e flagellate" — ancient proverb.

For Saturday, May 25, Day 146 of the Story-a-Day Challenge.

366 WORDS (without A/N)

Title picture was AI-generated-hot, but the plates are not!

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There are currently three surviving Vocal writers still participating in the 2024 Story-a-Day Challenge:

• L.C. Schäfer, challenge originator

• Rachel Deeming

• Gerard DiLeo (some other guy)

Watch them as they squirm and panic as their ideas require more mental effort to keep this insane thing going.

PLEASE SUPPORT THEM BY READING THEIR DAILY SUBMISSIONS