Copyright © 1999 Miron Schmidt.
Revision 5.
Written on May 1, 1994. Thanks to Neil DeMause.

You thought it would be so easy. Goddam fool. They convinced you. Their very own way.

Now you know better. Bloodflow, blood flowing fast. You'd never have thought dying would be so painful. So cold.

You couldn't see who did it, or how it was done. They were five. They didn't laugh. They didn't say anything. Just looked at you, and you knew what was coming. You begged. You fell on your knees. You cried. You tried to bribe them.

They didn't say anything.

Then it happened very fast. You felt the pain. Couldn't say if it was cold steel or hot lead or anything else. Could only say it hurt. Oh yes, it hurt. Blood spilling all over the street. At least you think it's a street. May be a room, as well.

Then they left, one after another. Didn't look back. They were cool. One stayed with you. He's watching you now.

You can't tell if you're crying. The surroundings become dark. Not black, as you would have expected. Like in that crime story: then everything became black. Not with you. With you it's red. It darkens, but somehow the darkest it gets is red.

Perhaps it's the blood all around you. Perhaps your eyes aren't closed at all. Perhaps you're looking at your own blood right now, and that's why it doesn't become really black. You can't tell.

Cold.

You can't move anymore. You try to find out if that guy is still watching you but you can't move your head to do so. Only your arms are twitching. Not that you'd feel it. You just know your arms are twitching. It sounds right. You don't want them to move. You want to die quietly.

You smell something. Ashes and smoke. When you were a kid you once saw a movie in which some guy said it smelled like ashes when one couldn't breathe anymore. But you know this isn't true. You don't want to think about what it must be then. You think about it anyway. Then you know. You don't want to believe it. But you know. That motherfucker is smoking a cigar while watching you die. Could be he says something now. You can't hear anymore. Funny your nose still works. It does.

Cold.

Suddenly something changes. You know you are dead now. It's ridiculous, thinking about being dead, but you are. Somehow you are.

A door shuts. You can't hear it. Instead you feel the wind and a subtle change of pressure.

Finally the darkness is black. Red changes to black.

Bloodflow stops.