nobody likes to be murdered

March 15, 2010 at 3:35 am Leave a comment

Nobody likes to be murdered, least of all me. But here I am. Dead. It’s enough to make a guy puke. This time it really wasn’t my fault. I’d been standing there, minding my own business, flicking open and shut my lighter, thinking to myself how bored I was. That’s when it hit me. A blow to the back of my head and the pipe clanging against the concrete floor. The worst part? He wasn’t even after me. No kidding. I didn’t die immediately. If he’d gotten help I could have lived. But he didn’t. He left me there and I bled to death. Some stories don’t have a happy ending. This is one of them.

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Entry filed under: Fiction.

war cry Sharpeville Massacre – the beginning of the end

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