Ms. Mary Manslaughter grit her pearly white teeth, and licked her lips as she held the trigger down forcefully. “Better hide, better run. Cause’ I’m mowing the lawn with my tommy gun.” No one could hear her jest though, over the hellish cackling of 700 rounds per minute. But it didn’t matter. She could hear.
Joel, unable handle the stress anymore, jumped from the building. He fell, and fell. Then, fell some more. In fact, he continued to fall. Even when the road was rising up to meet him, he fell still – straight through like a meteor. This amazed everyone. Especially poor Joel, who is still falling to this day.
The Black Parade marched with bones clicking, and jaws clacking in a percussive ensemble. Their ivory instruments moaned with passion, until the very last note rang out. Then… they collapsed. That’s when Joan looked at me and said the very last thing I can remember, before I collapsed too. “Time makes songs of us all.”
The fire was molten, luminous, and shifted like liquid in the orb between his hands. Then, it dripped down the sides and mottled his flesh. It hurt. You could tell. But then it began to take. He drank the fire, like water soaking into a dry sponge. Reborn, as the Son of the First Light.
“Woo-wee, I tell ya! There ain’t nothin so sweet as a warm summer puddin in the middle of July.” I turned, out of curiosity. And to my surprise, I didn’t recognize the man. In a small town like this, that’s something of a miracle. I decided to keep it that way, and kept walking.
And that’s when I saw it. The final destination. A bright, pearlescent kingdom swimming in shimmery beams of light. All the citizens of this legendary city left behind their bodies long ago. To enter, I would have to do the same. And to leave, I would have to find a new body. A better body.
I’ll never forget what my master said to me that day. In a whispered tone, as soft as the setting sun in the distance… “Have an open heart, my son. Fullness from within brings the power to extend and forgive.” “But master, I am…” He interrupted, “You are only the extent to which you love.”
The choir echoed loudly between the mountains in a harmony that stirred the spirit. It was the sound of victory. The music of triumph. Their voices were overwhelming, washing over any would be listeners as niagrous waves of euphoria. Maybe they were spirits, or phantoms from beyond the veil. It didn’t matter. They were beautiful.
He had an image in his mind of how she would look when they finally met. Hopeful thoughts, that grew into expectations. Expectations, that she shattered. He had poetic words lingering on the edge of his tongue, but nothing came out. He breathed wordlessly, and surrendered to the moment, letting the silence ring out forever.
He drank his coffee three sips at a time. One hand moved the cup back and forth, while the other fidgeted needlessly. It was quiet, besides the buzzing from his headphones and the sporadic bursts of click-clacking as he tried to put his thoughts into words. Just a writer writing – introverted, desperate, and deliberate.