Sunday, 29 July 2012

This is a prolouge to a novel I was going to write. What do you think? should I take it further?

Your Time To Die!

The night was being pushed away by the first streams of the sun’s rays as it peeked over the horizon to herald in a new day. Paul Harris sat on the rock at the edge of the car park nestled high in the mountains, the trees starting to rustle softly with a new morning breeze that cooled his hot and aching skin. The cuts and abrasions nothing compared to the gaping wound in his left thigh and his lower right abdomen.  The makeshift tourniquet made from the shirt he was wearing the previous night soaked in his precious life’s blood. As he coughed he wiped away a smear of blood bubbling up in his throat, giving him a metallic coppery taste that had basically been the main stay of the last 6 hours.
“What the fuck happened to my life” he whispered softly to himself and he closed his eyes dragged in a deep breath as his left hand searched his pockets for a cigarette. He found the cancerous stick and lit it with his trusty Zippo dropped the lighter back in his pocket, inhaled deeply and coughed out smoke and more blood.
“Linda what did we do, what happened” he said to himself again as he thought of his beautiful wife, thirty six never had children and her body was still like that of a twenty year old. He thought back to the previous evening the fun the drive to the bar the plans they had a quiet night away in a ritzy hotel, room service, hot showers, steamy lingering love making. That was the plan they had been looking forward to for the last three months, it started ok and the sex was fantastic but the aftermath was not in the plan. A solitary tear run down his face as his mind drifted back to the image of his wife, as he exhaled and coughed again spitting a congealed blob of blood to the ground as he wiped the vitreous fluid away yet again. Her body ruined destroyed and why, what benefit did it serve anyone, she was a beautiful woman who never hurt anyone, he sobbed loudly now and the sun’s rays were comforting him as he head lolled down between his open knees. The fight he put up just too still be alive at 6.16am was all too much for him.
“Lisa , I’m sorry I wish it was me and not you” he said as a shadow engulfed him and blocked out the suns invigorating rays that almost made him feel normal just for a second.
“I can accommodate that for you” the voice said, and as he looked up his neck opened and spilled his tongue flapping out like a grotesque tie on a blood red shirt. His last image was that of a shadow outlined by the sun’s rays and a voice that made his skin crawl.
Copywrite Graeme Hawke 2011