The kid and I had a conversation about death and last words.
I was trying to keep the sound of a Tom Waits piano out of my head but damn that stuff is good.
We laughed about foolish finishes and secretly envied the men we thought to be wise.
I raced around the idea of a deathbed or a firing squad. (Preferring the latter)
What would my last words be?
Nevermind; Beethoven already beat me to it.
The kid and I were thinking about death and last words.
I was trying to keep from slurring and Tommy wouldn’t shut up. (Not that I would ever ask him to)
The kid stopped talking and I got distracted with my internal monologue. (right on the nose of a narcissist’s pocket-watch)
“Death isn’t as exciting as what leads up to it.”
Fuck my last words. What am I saying now?
I would tell you but I slurred them and forgot.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Anthony Dahm and writers in Poets and other communities.
Obsidian Is Alive
I live in a realm of darkness and curiosity, where the very ground conceals secrets and riddles, the answers to which are well beyond my reach. The cavern beneath Mount Etna is a maze of contorted rock and hidden riches, where daylight never shines, and the shadows of torches and the ghostly phosphorescence of cinnabar are the only illumination sources. I am fascinated by the cavern's beauty: the stalagmites, vast columns of rock that ascend from the ground like titans and are studded with gleaming adornments and stones, capturing sunlight and creating a treasure-trove of wealth and fascination. One stalagmite, however, stands out: a gigantic monolith of completely unreflective obsidian that glows blackly, swallowing light and color. I am drawn to it by a magnetic-like force; though Clement tells me it will boil to the touch, I am not frightened. Indeed, when I put my palm upon it, I am startled by the device's warmth; it is red-hot, pulsating with unseen living energy. Clement explains it is a conductor, a turning device that draws and converts all force it contacts.
By Owen Belen4 days ago in Poets
Spellbound (1945)
As part of my ongoing ambition to be a 1940s screenwriter, I have re-watched Hitchcock’s Spellbound. Of course, he is the master of suspense. During the 1940s and 1950s Hitchcock used his years of experience in the film industry to direct some of the most thrilling and frightening films of the era. They are full of heightened emotions, conflict and twisted plot-lines.
By Rachel Robbins4 days ago in Geeks
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.