Another Life

He pulled his cap down low over his face, thrust his hands into his tracksuit pockets, and watched them wheel it away. His body.

He thought he'd feel embarrassed, given the ignominious way he'd died. He said it was perfect, because everyone would believe it. The best lies are the ones that make you look bad or silly, because no one will believe that you'd make up something like that.

This made him look silly, alright. People'd be laughing about it for years. Leastways, when the girls were done crying. All the girls in the world, it felt like. Should he feel bad about that? Shouldn't he care about his legacy? About upsetting all those nice folks? And Priscilla, and Ginger and Lisa- Stoppit. Thoughts like that weakened his resolve.

Shouldn't he worry that someone who was in on it might let something slip?

But he didn't feel embarrassed, or sad, or worried. Suppose that's what dying does to you. Hard to care about anything when you're dead.

He just felt... light. He was the biggest he'd ever been in his life, those filmstar cheekbones buried under layers and layers of pressure and wealth and Lord knows what else... But the real weight had melted away like a sigh. For the first time in a long time, he felt... OK. He didn't need a glass of something, or prescription of something else. The wanting would creep back, sure enough, but maybe now he had a chance to escape it. Like he'd said earlier: with a little faith, you can stop anything. Right? For now, he felt free.

3PM on a Tuesday afternoon, but it felt like a sunrise. He'd grow his beard, change his hair, keep an eye on jobs in the papers. Disappear. He smiled the ghost of that Hollywood smile. Things might be OK. Optimism swelled in his chest, and he hummed Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain. It wasn't raining of course; it'd stopped hours before.

Did someone just look up at the window? He moved away from it, just to be on the safe side.

When he finally left the building, no one announced it. That was just how he wanted it.

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Word count: 366

Submitted on: 8th January at 00:39

* * * Author's Note * * *

Thank you for reading! I sincerely appreciate your eyeballs and engagement. I try to reciprocate all reads. I appreciate it if you could leave a comment to make it easy for me to do that. If you enjoyed it, the best compliment you can give me is to read another!

The story behind the story: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one makes an 8 day streak. I'll link the others below.

The Prompt: Today is Elvis' birthday, so this is a story inspired by him and the stories that surround his death. There are multiple movies made about it, and the concept also crops up in Independence Day, Men in Black, and Good Omens (Death says, I NEVER LAID A FINGER ON HIM).

There's even a theory that he has a cameo part in Home Alone.

I understand it, I think - hope is the father of the belief. This story is what I like to think had really happened. Maybe others feel the same.

1st January - A New Beginning

2nd January - The Other Guy

3rd January - One Day, I Just Disappeared

4th January - The Wages of Sin

5th January - Where Am I?

6th January - A Visit to Nana's

7th January- Honour and Obey

Editing to add: Please consider popping over and having a look at Rachel's piece for today: