Monday, January 16, 2012

After they killed everyone

After they killed everyone

They dragged him through the room, quickly dislocating both of his shoulders when he fought and bit one of them. His eye was half crushed and full of blood. With his tongue he pushed out a molar loosened by his beating and played with it in his mouth - a final pleasure.

The heels of his shoes vibrated as they dragged the grassy path through the building's courtyard shaking his strong legs and the air was perfect and mild. A twilight among twenty or thirty in his life of twenty-five years. A blue and green evening of pain and wild breathing. An evening of attentiveness and calm.

At the wooden door they stopped to pump water from the well to wash his wounds as they were increased, to show him the accretion of fate.

They set him in the muddy straw; using only his lower arms, but all of his strength, bending his right elbow with the help of his left hand he took hold of one man's gun and slid it quickly out of its holster and aimed at his face in one motion.

He whispered, almost a hiss, full of passion and life, "I loved every minute!" and, pressing the barrel to his forehead, sent a bullet into his brain.

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