The once relieving breeze now dragged sandpaper across his skin. Cold bones danced inside making the drink in his hand protest. The rain that masked his tears had no interest in hiding the shivering fits that attempt to make him warm.
I don't want to die. Why do I have to die?
He closed his eyes. Flesh from the victims of death encompassed his thoughts. Loved ones of a variety of decay.
Stop. STOP.
Eyes opened for a desperate escape. Vision met with reality confirming his place. The unimaginable detail of everything taunted him.
There is no escape. Death wins and I'm a passenger of detail to see the beginning, so I know my destination has to be a final resting place.
The bottle kissed his lips, whispering promises to help quiet his thoughts.
"You know what's coming, take a pause from life without dying to help you ease."
The bottle hit the ground cracking the earth beneath, hissing and horrible moans escaped. Out crawled a figure of a man with perfect teeth. His eyes were as enchanting as the ocean and his musk flavored the air with the smell of the riches foods.
"It appears you are dead boy. Thanks for finally claiming your rightful place."
About the Creator
Tyler Simpson
I write for myself here, but you’re welcome to join me.
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