Seconds

Seconds


“Seconds…
You have seconds to think…
Seconds to speak…
Seconds to laugh…
Seconds to cry…
Your last few seconds…
Seconds…
Before you die…”

Crashing to his knees, the cement embedding into his jeans. Pain soared across his body, the feelings restricting his movement. An ache rushed down his spine, snapping the veins until blood seeped from the opening. His hands quivered, shaking from fear and the night around him. Fear had come to take him once more and this time there was no escape. The prison of terror would steal his soul and no longer would he see the light, the sun, the earth…
The darkness surrounded him, taking the boy hostage for life. He wrapped his arms around his stomach to keep the cold away, to keep the wind from freezing him. His breathing became slower, the cold vapour escaping his throat in the form of a cloud. He gritted his teeth, he wasn’t going to allow his life to die now, not now, not yet. He wasn’t going to give up.

He pressed his blood stained hands against the cement below him, he had to continue. Slowly he stood up, feeling the night air caress his skin. The boy stumbled feeling the pain tear at his skin once more. He struggled to hold his stance but he had to run, run away from this… from everything…
He took two steps, grasping his stomach once again, avoiding the feeling of his insides screaming to die. He never thought falling would feel like this. There was no warmth or light just the hatred that cursed every move he made. No one in his mind would ever prevent his casualty. No one he knew would cry over his grave or appear at his funeral. What funeral?
He took several more steps, sliding against the wall using it for a support. Resting he stared up at the stars, wondering whether they could somehow help him now. Perhaps they could reassure him he was going to live another day, but not even they would watch over him.
Clouds covered the sky and soon rain would fall upon the pale skin of the victim. The water dripped down his dark hair, soaked his clothes and trailed his blood behind him. The boy fell within the light flickering from a street lamp above him. The street was empty, wet with dispare, wet with anguish. He slipped against the wall, falling down until he hit the road below him.

“You can’t escape death…” The voice approached from behind the wall, its deep tone scarring. Leaping to his feet, he began to run, run away from the past and his certain death. Maybe he could escape, escape life, escape his friends, enemies and his past. Perhaps he could escape death but there was only one way to find out.
Rain dripped into his eyes causing his vision to fade. He stumbled over cracks in the road but balanced himself. He couldn’t believe he was running from fear, fear of death. Many times the boy had sat in the shower, feeling the pain run down his skin and into the drain. Many times he had hoped that lightning would strike and kill him there. He’d wait, head against the tiled wall, wait for god to take him out and send him to hell where he belonged.
He’d wonder the streets at night, hands in his pockets, hiding his identity, showing only one scarred eye, much like tonight. He’d stop, watching lovers walk hand in hand holding each other. They had a meaning to live. They had a reason for getting up in the morning, getting dressed and walking outside. He’d sigh and continue his journey for the meaning for his life. Why was he so important to this earth anyway?
He’d spin the barrel of his favourite weapon, point towards his forehead and click the trigger. He’d stare death in the eye and never would he flinch its attack. But death retreated, had better things to destroy, more lives to ruin. Never did the bullet fire. Luck was always on his side, pushing him towards continuing with his job. No one ever bother to ask if he felt anything. Showing pain, sorrow and suffering was harder than it looked.

Tonight, another meaningless walk hoping that perhaps he would find a way to continue or fall. Falling had been on his agenda for years, but now, he hated the thought. The boy had walked for two hours, it was four in the morning. A bullet had never looked so assuring. To many religions, life went on day after day as suffering. Suffering as you breathe, suffering as you sleep, as you live your insignificant life. But then why was he the only one? He was alone in this world, trapped in a prison of darkness cutting away at his skin slowly, allowing the blood to flood his dreams. But he didn’t care anymore, he didn’t cry anymore. He didn’t remember how to cry.
What are dreams worth if destiny keeps you from reaching them? What are dreams worth if you can’t soar towards them? Darkness tore his wings apart, so he had to walk, walk alone.

The boy shivered feeling the cold breeze haunting his body. The rain washed over him, his hair dripping the sorrow all over him. For the first time in almost a lifetime a tear formed in the jade spheres and curled its way down the face of a torn soldier. Why? Why was he afraid now more than ever? Was it because he knew no one was there, no one was there to embrace him and tell him everything would be okay? Why wasn’t anyone there?
The boy stopped dropping to his knees once more. He allowed his tears to fall into the ocean below. The water rushed over the boy’s legs, the cooling sensation flooding his body. So this is what death felt like.

“I told you, you can’t escape death.” Another figure splashed the water as he walked across towards the victim. He smiled, admiring the wonders he had caused upon the boy. “You have seconds to live. What are you going to do? Seconds to think, seconds to decide,” The boy laughed, “just a few seconds before I tear you apart once more.”

The soldier looked up, shaking his head, shaking the tears away from his face. He stared up, at the street that stood before him. People strolled by on the paths at either side of him. No one stopped to help, no one even glanced to see what was going on. He shivered, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes. The darkness was coming for him now, there was no escape.
“You’ve disappeared.” The boy said standing behind him. “You don’t matter to this world anymore.”

Did he exist anymore?
“What are you going to do with your last few seconds? Stare at the people that don’t care for you, no longer believe that you are alive, or care.”
The boy glanced up at the moon, tears in his eyes lit up by the rays that the moon produced. He wished that just once someone would say how much he meant to them, even if it was just once within his life. Just once…

“You’ve lived too long… Your seconds are up…”
He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds around him. For once he appreciated the sound of the sea in the distance and the idea that the stars and the moon were shining down upon him. He imagined that it was warm, no longer did a bullet wound bleed sorrow and hate. He was home, where he’d begun or among the angels that repaired this pilots wings.
He opened his eyes, admiring the figures surrounding him.
“Thank you.”

For the years he had lived, he had hardly been able to produce a smile or a laugh. The stars allowed him one last time before another bullet would slash at his life. The solider smiled, it was for no one, not the stars, the moon, the shooter, the city, the strollers, the bullet, death, life, hatred or love. It was for no one but himself.

A bullet hacked at the sky, forward towards the young boy. He closed his eyes, listening to his life around him for his last few seconds. Everything sounded… perfect…

The assassin turned around, placing the gun in his pocket. He walked away, away from the victim of another bullet. No longer did it possess any life, a spirit or a soul. That had all been stolen many years before. The world unfroze around the soldier as the assassin strolled away. People rushed to the scene, but there was nothing they could do.
Tears still fell from his eyes…
He only wished he could have spent his last few seconds with someone that cared. Even if they were only seconds…