You Missed Me

You missed me by a hair, the bullet flying past. The rain pounded harder and harder, thunder rolled and boomed. Lightning cracked and whipped the shadowed sky. In this death game where only we two remained, nothing but death awaited the loser, and guilt to the winner. Our families on the line, I aim my M1911 and fire the final round in the clip, you in turn fire back, the metal deaths slowly zoom past each other, time slows and everything gets clearer. The trash on the ground readable, each individual raindrop seeable. Every twist and curve in the bright lightning identifiable. Then it hits me, 'I'm going to die'. The round pierces my skull grinding through the hard bone break through the soft tissue and out the back. I fall to the ground, a corpse. My heart begins its final beats. It was a death game. You missed me at first, seems you wouldn't miss me again, old friend.