Death… Short story

I was trapped a corner on the stairwell, sixth floor. Bullets tore through my body from his AK47 as I sank down to the floor, dead. Strangely, I somehow willed my sprit to remain in my dead body. Lifting my head I saw him looking at me in terror, gun still in his hand and pointed at my chest. As he emptied his barrel into my body I looked at him and laughed. Pushing the gun away I stood then looked down at my body and smiled.

 I can walk, talk and speak but I feel nothing. My body is just a hard shell. How can this be? How can I be dead but still able to exist in my body? The thought exhilarated me.  My head rose to his sudden outburst of tears. “Why don’t you just run?” I asked. But the look in his eyes told me that he was frozen in terror. He could not move even if he tried.

I walked up to him with a sweet smile on my face, softly touched his cheeks and whispered “I love you.” I then slowly reached down to his shoulders, held both his arms and tore them off tossing them aside as he screamed and fainted in agony.  I then bent, grabbed his leg and lifted him with ease. He looked like a rag doll, weightless to me. I then began swinging his body forward and backwards like one would a golf club, and then I slammed his body into the ground, back and forth again and again smashing his head into the ground until only the neck remained.

Laughing and skipping like a child, I carelessly tossed the rest of his body aside then looked for the exit.

 
Natty ODou

 

I’m use to it…

I’m use to it…At times the silence is deafening but it has now become my companion…

I’m use to it…The cold is numbing but my heart no longer yearns for the warmth of you…

My bed is a coffin of wonder where I dream of things I may never see, a red sky  with falling bones and clouds of rotting flesh…I’m use to it…

I live in the comfort of my own world where my imagination and my dreams are my pacifier…would you not join us?

I smile as I listen to myself converse while listening to those beautiful soothing melodies we so love to sing…I’m use to it…The many sides of me, the good the bad, the loving, the beautiful, the hated and the ugly…I’m use to it…I’m use to being me.

 Natty ODou