How frail the body is; how frail this flesh had been. It is quick to bleed, and even quicker to give as it goes into it’s death throes and surrenders completely from life as limbs go limp. The hands, the last thing to deny what happened, struggled to keep their grip on the cloth of the curtains, but they too relent as the body feels nothing. There is nothing that held it back, allowing it to finally fall as what were once seconds had turned to minutes, hours, days… until it finally became impossible to discern anything more than the everlastingness of what was dead & dying. The red in it’s eyes; already having been a dull color before dimmed even more as it’s memory, the last thing that reminded it that, once, it had lived began to perish with the body—one after another, they flashed back and forth. However never enough to leave their print on it, just like in it’s life. There is a gleam of something more in between the colors and the shapes that made it feel for one last time before the darkness that comes would take it completely.
There’s the thump, thunder on the back of the mind as the body escapes it. The storm is dying down and the violence is over… but it’s blood lasts, and so does this carcass. Life begets death, beginning before the end, and as the barrel cools, so does the corpse as the last breath becomes the first to surmount and carry on past death. It goes, into the world that would exist without it, that would continue to exist without it.
Did it matter in the end? Was there a meaning to it’s demise? Why had this happened to it? What horrible thing did it do to deserve an equally horrible fate? To unmake the life given to it? To take away what was given to it so quickly? Where did it all go wrong?
( These questions would never be answered anyway. )
And so would end the tragedy of it’s life…
There was ‘ the ceiling ’, again. It was unfamiliar at first, but she knew and could feel as although it was something she should have known intimately, but it escapes her, again… and though her lips do not dare make even a sound, there is still a very audible sigh that could be felt she understands, again. What would have been, unfortunately becomes should, before it couldn’t, and the idea of finally dying escapes her, again.
The body dies, but another vessel takes it’s place as it becomes her again as she stirs back to her feet from the bed, reminding her of the fate she is destined to live from now until the end she cannot foresee. It was always out of reach for her, and always impossible to know when it will be her last—if there ever could be a last.
The child just wants it to end.
