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09-12-2016, 10:41 AM
I'LL BE YOUR NUMBER ONE WITH A BULLET
a loaded god complex, cock it and pull it
a loaded god complex, cock it and pull it
As you lie dying upon the ground, the world spinning and growing dimmer around you, you think about your parents, your sisters, and the many half-siblings you have stubbornly refused to get to know. Why didn’t you spend more time with them? Tell them stories, take them on adventures? Why were you so isolated, so determined to stick to your friends instead of your family?
What’s wrong with you?
Is this why Ma left?
Your eyes flutter shut. It doesn’t matter now. Ma’s back- or, more likely, Ma’s dead and you’re hallucinating. Whatever. Who cares. You’re dying. Your failures as a brother and son are mitigated by the fact that you’re drowning in your own bodily fluids, your lung is collapsing, and four of your five limbs are useless. You can smell your own blood and shit as it festers in the sun. You’re moved, but you don’t really notice it – you’re in too much pain with too little consciousness.
But you’re ready. Despite the agony that plagues you, you feel peace. Warm. Maybe this will be a new exciting adventure, one you can share with Ma. Maybe you’ll meet the Sun God. Maybe you’ll hang with whales, and be a ghost and haunt your friends, and be able to fly.
The warmth intensifies. Your breathing grows easier. Your pain seems to dim. In your addled mental state, you assume this to mean you’re dying, and that it really just isn’t as bad as you expected, and that it will all be over soon. It’s a strangely familiar feeling, and despite its firm belief in its imminent demise, your brain struggles to place where you’ve experienced it before. A face begins to take shape in your mind, and you reach for it, frowning, trying to understand as you recognize… you recognize…
Zero, Gaucho commands, and your sunbeam eyes fly open, and the stallion is there, on his knees above you, and you wonder, is he dead, too?
Oh, kid. If only you knew.
“Da?” you croak in response. A new warmth fills you, a happiness. Your family is with you, and you feel loved. The beginning of a smile flutters on your lips.
Then your eyes drift shut again, and you sleep.
----------
The shadows are long when you awake. You still smell, which is interesting – you didn’t think it would stink, being dead. You’re also still on the beach, and sand is pressing against your skin unpleasantly (also unexpected). Frowning, you shift, then freeze as you feel the warmth of a body against yours. Your eyes open and you crane your head, searching for the face that belongs to that oh-so-familiar scent. The pain in your neck is surprisingly limited, but you don’t notice this at the moment. The gashes that litter your body are pink and raised, but closed.
You don’t notice this, either.
All you notice is her, your Ma, the person you love and hate and miss and need most in the world, the one who you’d feared abandoned you but came back when you needed her most. You stare at her with wide, hopeful eyes, and then you hear your voice whisper the only explanation your brain can comprehend.
“Ma, are we dead?”
What’s wrong with you?
Is this why Ma left?
Your eyes flutter shut. It doesn’t matter now. Ma’s back- or, more likely, Ma’s dead and you’re hallucinating. Whatever. Who cares. You’re dying. Your failures as a brother and son are mitigated by the fact that you’re drowning in your own bodily fluids, your lung is collapsing, and four of your five limbs are useless. You can smell your own blood and shit as it festers in the sun. You’re moved, but you don’t really notice it – you’re in too much pain with too little consciousness.
But you’re ready. Despite the agony that plagues you, you feel peace. Warm. Maybe this will be a new exciting adventure, one you can share with Ma. Maybe you’ll meet the Sun God. Maybe you’ll hang with whales, and be a ghost and haunt your friends, and be able to fly.
The warmth intensifies. Your breathing grows easier. Your pain seems to dim. In your addled mental state, you assume this to mean you’re dying, and that it really just isn’t as bad as you expected, and that it will all be over soon. It’s a strangely familiar feeling, and despite its firm belief in its imminent demise, your brain struggles to place where you’ve experienced it before. A face begins to take shape in your mind, and you reach for it, frowning, trying to understand as you recognize… you recognize…
Zero, Gaucho commands, and your sunbeam eyes fly open, and the stallion is there, on his knees above you, and you wonder, is he dead, too?
Oh, kid. If only you knew.
“Da?” you croak in response. A new warmth fills you, a happiness. Your family is with you, and you feel loved. The beginning of a smile flutters on your lips.
Then your eyes drift shut again, and you sleep.
----------
The shadows are long when you awake. You still smell, which is interesting – you didn’t think it would stink, being dead. You’re also still on the beach, and sand is pressing against your skin unpleasantly (also unexpected). Frowning, you shift, then freeze as you feel the warmth of a body against yours. Your eyes open and you crane your head, searching for the face that belongs to that oh-so-familiar scent. The pain in your neck is surprisingly limited, but you don’t notice this at the moment. The gashes that litter your body are pink and raised, but closed.
You don’t notice this, either.
All you notice is her, your Ma, the person you love and hate and miss and need most in the world, the one who you’d feared abandoned you but came back when you needed her most. You stare at her with wide, hopeful eyes, and then you hear your voice whisper the only explanation your brain can comprehend.
“Ma, are we dead?”
Z è K L è
am i more than you bargained for yet?
am i more than you bargained for yet?
@Ampere
