The Dancer
Frozen Life
Still here. On the bench in the graveyard, my plaid trapper cap keeping my ears warm. Journal on lap, my eyes are focused on my sketch of the dancer, but my mind is on the gunshot.
It was windy today, but now I feel no breeze. The white snow reflects the sunlight everywhere. Through the soft, cold, coat, a dozen headstones peek at me, as frozen in time as I am.
Before death, people can see a lifetime in a moment. Well... I've been stuck in that moment for years it seems - saw my life a few times. Got bored.
So who is trying to kill me? I worked out the method - a gun. Some kind of rifle, I think. No one wants me dead that I know of. Famous last words.
More timeless days torture my mind. The picture I drew sits ignored - until I notice the faintest red drop of blood in the bottom right corner. My life flashes again, but just the last few hours. Before this bench, the sketch, the gunshot.
Finding the abandoned factory. The rotten smell. The old suitcase and a leather journal filled with codes, and one empty page. The page I now draw on, with the blood drop. The last evidence of a murder.
Time recoils like the rifle back into flow. The wooden bench near my shoulder splinters apart. I am running, dodging, dancing through the headstones.
I've lived two frozen lifetimes, but never so alive as now.
About the Creator
Michael J. Wine
I am a fantasy and science fiction writer, and I also like to write the occasional poem or essay. I aim to make my stories as unique and yet meaningful as I can, and I hope you enjoy them.
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