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| Saviour | |
| By fantasticcheese | ||||||||||
| 06 January 2007 | ||||||||||
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I wrote this a while ago and was going to write a longer story, but it got buried. I just found it again recently and decided not to continue with it but leave it as it is. There are far more questions that way. The body lays face down on the dirt at my feet. The gun, probably still smoking, is hot in my hand. The silence makes my head ache. Then, gradually, the world returns to normal. A bird starts to sing in a nearby tree. The wind is audible again, whistling through the tall grass behind me. An aeroplane a mile above me. But still I stare down at the body. I guess I only stood there for a minute but it felt like I had enough time to think a thousand thoughts and feel a thousand feelings, maybe a million; and they came not in an organised, oriented way as I imagined they would, but randomly, jumbled, recent and distant, sad, happy, heart melting, angry, bewilderment, despondency, fulfilment. After that minute I looked around me and saw nothing except a new chapter beginning in the world and the whole world was looking back at me waiting for me to enter it. I breathed for the first time. I sucked in the air and tasted it and it tasted of early spring mornings and of the earth after a rainfall and of the countryside on a summers day and my lungs felt like they were brand new. I do not feel scared anymore, but replenished. I think not of any consequences of my actions over the last two weeks but of the difference it makes to the rest of my life and those around me. I expect to feel a weight lifting from my shoulders and to feel light on my feet but instead there is a pain behind my nose like I am about to cry. I do not ask any questions and the birds and the grass and the air around me do not ask any either. They do not wonder why this is. They say to me, we accept this, go on your way. The time for questions has been and gone. It is now I realise I must go; I must go immediately but turning my eyes away from this scene for the last time will be the most singularly difficult thing I will ever have to do in all my days. I close my eyes, open them. Take in one last look. Then I step backwards once, turn and walk away from the body of my son.
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