Bang, Bang

May 10, 2008

I heard a loud bang and instantly I felt cold. As I hit the ground, spatter covered the earth and tagged his shiny white shoes. I remember always fearing the pain, fearing the separation, fearing death. I can say that this is nothing like my preconceived notions told me. The only image in my head was that of the people I loved and cared for. The cement was rather cold, but my insides warmed it well. The shriek of men and women alike was alarming. I was calmed by the reality that it was over. My Maker beckoned me and it was time to meet.

Two hours earlier, I sat, puffing my robusto cigar, watching the smoke dissipate into the fan. As I looked across the table, I gazed into her eyes. We got up, and as my lips gripped the wrapped tobacco, I noticed a commotion outside. Curiosity burned inside of me and I grabbed her hand and we rushed outside. The cold air stung my eyes as they set upon the image of a drunkard yelling out obscenities into the sky. We met eyes and through my pupils I expressed the disgust I felt.

His arms waivered as he lifted them towards me. His fingers were wrapped so tightly around the pistol’s grip that I could hear it creaking. “Why would you do that?” I asked with desperation in my voice. He remained silent. He simply stared at me with cold, empty eyes. His lips quivered like a little boy who’d just lost his baseball game. I grew more and more frustrated, “Listen pal, this life is short enough, I don’t need your help in making it even shorter.” I said with irritation in my voice. With a dry calloused voice the man said “You fail me”.
“What??” I replied
“You fail me, over and over.” He rebutted.

Do I know this man? Did I forget to tip the bartender? As the air cleared it dawned on me, this was John Rivendale. I hadn’t seen John since my freshman year of college some 13 years ago. We were roommates in our small dormitory. He was a quiet boy who kept to himself. He would sit for hours upon hours, writing in his frayed composition book. Words on top of words filled his mind and spewed out onto the paper.

As I stand there, I start to remember things about him. I remember his awkward gazes at me while he wrote in his journal, his easily triggered temper. I can’t help but wonder if this man has had me on his thoughts for the past decade. What did I do that would cause this intense circumstance? I could see that the situation was on its way to a dead end. I frantically tried to explain myself and apologize for whatever it was that ate away at him.

“You have always failed me” he said once more.

Side note about this story: I wrote the first half to this about two and half years ago. I came across it and decided to finish it. It isn’t meant to make any kind of point or statement. I just wanted to reflect on what that circumstance would feel like.



  1. great ending to a story. are you going to share the beginning?

  2. haha, yea this short is totally incomplete, I should probably work on it some more.

  3. intense!

  4. awesome! I love short stories… please keep sharing what you are writing. It is good for you. 🙂

  5. Dude. i loev the first paragraph the most… the rest is great too.

  6. thanks!

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