I stumble from a dark haze.. I can hear far off thunder rattling the pictures on the wall..
I am slowly Emerging from under blankets of darkness..
Blinded by the bathroom 40 watt light shining in my eye..
I can faintly make them out now..
They are the sounds of her soft footsteps..
I can hear them echoing off the walls in the halls..
I can hear the slap back of her heels..
Clicking and clacking on the hard waxed floors…

My mind races thinking about how she’s going to react when she sees me here..
Gut shot.. like the rat I am. This is a common fate among rats and pigeons.

I try to wipe the tears from my eyes.. but just end up smearing blood all over my face..
And I can feel it, covering my skin like fingernail polish. Making it hurt to smile…

I can feel my life slipping quietly away as she unlocks the front door to my trashy flat.
She shuts it easy behind her…
I can hear a careful approach into the hardwood living room and walk into the kitchen..

I could hear her gasp echo off the walls and stumbling steps taken in haste,
She must have seen the blood on the floor..

And with that.. she was gone..
No goodbyes, No waves, No talk.

Besides, I couldn’t talk anyways. I didn’t have the stomach for it.

08/06/2004

Author's Note: This was a short story I made about a gutshot rat laying in a bathtub dying after his targets had taken revenge.. Just a nice little bubble of a story with a nice ironic ending.

Posted on 08/06/2004
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