Hope
A crack of light slips through the dingy warehouse's gloom,
Onto the floor and by my feet,
My body no longer filled with death and doom.
This terror that lurks around me,
In the darkness, with and without me,
Has played its part.
I'm done.
My whole body sinks
But my mind is clear for once.
The horror that can encapsulates our minds,
Holds us hostage, and makes us blind.
One way in.
No way back.
Everyone looking for a way out.
'I didn't ask to be a part of this spectacle, this show'. I mumur.
The man in the chair, hands tied, his tears drying, feels the whole weight of his actions descend on him in this one moment, and begins to wish the bullet had blessed his brain, and kissed him.
The little girl, her face pale and stricken, stares aghast at what innocence tends to suffer.
She unties her father.
I can't move, don't wish too. But I have averted destroying myself by this act of debasement.
I'll go home. Soon.
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading a branch in the story
Death in Singsong. This branch
was posted on March 13, 2008 by
Redacted.
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