Banshee
I will never see my wife again.
The chain link fence bites into my back. The thickness of a swelling lip weighs heavy against my mouth. I see the fist coming again a moment before my vision falters. The next impact hits my chest and I feel something crack. It suddenly hurts to breathe. Fire in and fire out. Their faces are unfamiliar, but I know who they are. They are my mistakes. My back hits the chain link again and my fingers cling to the cold metal to keep me standing. One man steps away and another takes his place. They use only their hands, though I see the flash of a gun handle tucked into the pants of the man hitting me. They want this to last. Blood rushes to the surface of my face, readying to be released.
A mother cries. Her hair, the color of stoked embers, falls over twin, half-sized coffins. Each smooth, black surface reflects the brilliance of the sun. The sky is clear, cloudless and perfect. Birds dart in and out of the trees, picking insects from beneath the bark. The grass is a vibrant green and the thick scent of it having been freshly cut tugs at her asthma. Three darker shadows gather beneath the shade of a nearby tree. Through the tears she speaks two words. “Fix this.” Her voice is barely a whisper, but they hear and disappear between the gravestones. A mother stands alone in the middle of life and weeps for death.
Breath is hard to come by now. It catches against something sharp on the way down. My nose is broken in two places. One for each life I’ve taken. A third man steps towards me. He grins and sweeps a foot forward. I lose my grip on the fence and the next memory is from the ground. The pavement is dry and covered with dirt. It burns my nose, but my coughing hurts so much I stop breathing. Someone flips me onto my back. The three men are standing over me, my grim angels. The man with the gun finally lifts the metal free.
Death looks down on me and smiles.
The chain link fence bites into my back. The thickness of a swelling lip weighs heavy against my mouth. I see the fist coming again a moment before my vision falters. The next impact hits my chest and I feel something crack. It suddenly hurts to breathe. Fire in and fire out. Their faces are unfamiliar, but I know who they are. They are my mistakes. My back hits the chain link again and my fingers cling to the cold metal to keep me standing. One man steps away and another takes his place. They use only their hands, though I see the flash of a gun handle tucked into the pants of the man hitting me. They want this to last. Blood rushes to the surface of my face, readying to be released.
A mother cries. Her hair, the color of stoked embers, falls over twin, half-sized coffins. Each smooth, black surface reflects the brilliance of the sun. The sky is clear, cloudless and perfect. Birds dart in and out of the trees, picking insects from beneath the bark. The grass is a vibrant green and the thick scent of it having been freshly cut tugs at her asthma. Three darker shadows gather beneath the shade of a nearby tree. Through the tears she speaks two words. “Fix this.” Her voice is barely a whisper, but they hear and disappear between the gravestones. A mother stands alone in the middle of life and weeps for death.
Breath is hard to come by now. It catches against something sharp on the way down. My nose is broken in two places. One for each life I’ve taken. A third man steps towards me. He grins and sweeps a foot forward. I lose my grip on the fence and the next memory is from the ground. The pavement is dry and covered with dirt. It burns my nose, but my coughing hurts so much I stop breathing. Someone flips me onto my back. The three men are standing over me, my grim angels. The man with the gun finally lifts the metal free.
Death looks down on me and smiles.
