It’s not everyday you watch your life end. But that’s exactly what I got to watch happen today.
Standin here now, I’m still not so sure I totally understand how it happened.
I watch as the rain falls down on my face and I can feel the warmth of the water washing over my skin, the sun still high, peeking out from behind a cloud, as if mocking me in this moment. I can feel the hard street underneath me, and my clothes are absorbing more of the water as a puddle forms around me. I can feel my keys still in my hand, but just barely.
I’m pretty sure that I should be in pain.
But, I don’t feel anything. Just a hollow echoing inside. Almost a cold numbness, but without the tingling sensation.
That’s not right.
Something is definitely off.
You shouldn’t be able to blink when your life has ended.
I hear a low banging noise echo down the alley, almost as if someone is hitting on a pipe. As the beats quicken, I start to hear a cackle rise up.
How can I hear?
I turn my head toward the sound.
Something is definitely not right, I shouldn’t be able to do this.
I can see a figure, shadowy and hazy in the rain, walking toward me. He is swinging something around, smacking it on the wall. As he does, I hear the bang. He dances is chaotic jig as he approaches me.
Who is that?
What does he want?
As he gets closer, I can make out the hammer that he is carrying. In his other hand, he is dragging something through the rain slicked pavement.
What is that?
He walks toward me. The noise increases as he continues to bang the hammer on the pipe. He comes into view, and so does the object in his other hand.
A clown mask?
Why would he be carrying a clown mask?
He stops right next to me. I stare at the mask, it’s empty eye sockets and stupid red grin stare back at me, as if mocking me. It twists in his hand as he holds it by the red hair. The white face accentuate the darkness of the empty holes.
What do you want from me?
He looks down at me, and I can feel his gaze more then see it. It pierces into me, creating an uncomfortable feeling inside my chest. I try to turn away, but can’t. He pushes the hammer head into my chest, pushing on me. It feels like a lump of metal. Heavy and cold.
How can I feel cold?
How can I feel anything at all?
I want to scream. I want to cry out and scare this apparition away. I try to open my mouth and let out my fear.
Nothing comes out.
I can feel my heart racing, anxiety gripping me from within.
But I’m dead.
He pulls out an amber vial from his pocket, the liquid inside sloshing around as he continues to dance in his macabre manner. He opens it. He looks down at me, and smiles. His shadowy visage reveals a grin that I will never forget. He tilts the vial over my head and I watch as the liquid forms at the mouth and dumps down toward my face.
I close my eyes.
I can feel the liquid splatter on my skin.
It runs down into my eyes, across my nose, over my ears.
The din of the world’s noises start to fade.
All I can hear is my heartbeat.
Then a rush of air enters my lungs. Warm, damp air.
I open my eyes.
I quickly start to look around, searching for my dark dancer with the clown face.
I prop myself up, scurrying to my feet.
He is nowhere to be seen.
Then it hits me.
I’m standing. I look down to where I was just laying. There, in a puddled mixture I see the amber liquid mixing with the rain water, and a hint of red. I feel my chest. I feel around for the wound that killed me.
My list included: a hammer, a train ticket, keys, a lump of metal, a cannonball, a pair of hypersonic pliers, an amber vial, a clown mask.