" hey, can you stop?" The smile doesn't fade.
" hey, I asked you to stop?!" The smile changes every so slightly... it looks a little angry? I look away turning my back to the shadowed face. A cold hand lightly crosses my shoulder, I stand ridged waiting for "them"to hurt me...... nothing happens.
" dude, this isn't funny." The hand slowly moves up to my mouth, I can no longer talk.
Help I mummer. a cold object brushes against my throat. I laugh or attempt to....I think, I'm going to die. Is that okay? Would the world benefit from this? Would it lose something? Or would it care at all?
I struggled for some time after this. I'm in a public place in the middle of the city yet... there's no one in the vicinity.
What is going on!!! Is this set up? Has everyone left the street for this to happen? Does everyone hate me that much? One cold bitter tear slides down my face... I bite the hand that tightly covers my mouth in a attempt to get away but the knife slides against my throat... collapsing, struggling, dying, silent....
I'm dead! It's over! I had no chance, no life!
Well I guess that's the Beauty of dying!
YOU ARE READING
Short story's by me!
Short StoryJust short story's I always come up with these and just thought it would be fitting to share them.
