A Girl Is a Gun

1: Taken

Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

 Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right, 

Because their words had forked no lightning they 

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright 

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, 

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, 

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, 

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight 

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, 

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height, 

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. 

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

I once heard about people who were telling stories about dying and seeing a light. They were so called 'sobrevivientes de la muerte' - survivors of death. Apparently, to survive you had to be chosen and to some people, especially those who told such stories, it was a pretty huge deal. Their faith in overcoming death itself was incredible.

Their stories sounded so real yet insane that everyone around them was puzzled whether to believe them or not. None of the listeners had the guts to find out themselves and those who tried usually did not live to tell the story.

So what happens when you find yourself in a critical moment from which there may be no return? When I did, I hoped the light would come. I waited for it, craved it, like it was my last resort. So when I finally had to face death... There was no fucking light. When I was drowning in the depths of the lake, the only thing I saw was my life moving in front of my eyes like a bloody movie. The chances I'd taken and those I had not. The loses I'd experienced. The love I'd earned and the love I'd lost. The tears. The sweat. The laughs. All of it. All at once.

And then there was the future. Unknown space that I would never be able to explore. There was no future for me.

And then?, they always ask.

And then, I say, there was only darkness.

- 2 months earlier -

I had been staring at Mary's dress since we got into this club full of drunkards and smelly people. Mary's dress, though truly hideous, was in a way comforting because it did not seem as disturbing as the environment. It was, after all, the only thing that I knew so well and thus, it gave me at least some peace. And to think that I took Mary for the mild kind of a girl in the team of the two of us. When she said she wanted to talk, this kind of place was the last I would think of. We could not even hear each other without yelling, how on earth were we to talk?