Saturday, January 23, 2016

Terminal

©LiteraryJunkie
His fever had come fast,  moving through his body like a door to door salesman. His frail body, shaking, and ghostly made it a major effort to take a breath.

Death was neither kind nor quick. It lingered like a family member staying in your home calling it a vacation. It took its time. It made sure it traveled through every inch of your body, destroying all that it touched.

He hacked continuously, taking in short gasps of air. At the end of each cough was a whistling sound, and splatters of blood covering the room. You can't lose that much blood and survive it without immediate care and he had no one. For years, it had been only him. The news of his terminal illness sent his wife running like a thief in the night never to return.

In a few short seconds, the curtains closed, turning everything black. He stumbled across the floor, running into the invisible walls and laid there in agony staring up to nowhere until the last beat of his heart that allowed his soul to separate from his body. Finally, it was over.

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