A Recollection of the Last Moments

With the sound of a gun blast behind my ear, it ended.

The final, crippling pain there put me to sleep

I, like many others had tried the fast road to money, power, pleasure.

There had even been times when I was there watching a man in my position:

Executed, lying in an alleyway or in a basement, blood appearing black on the gravel

There’s never much light, only enough so you see things like faces and hands

The pistol is never chrome or shiny, always black and matte.

It never catches the light.

There’s never much of that recoil, and never an illuminating flash like lightning.

It’s always a quick pop, and the kneeling, quivering, crying man falls forward onto his face.

Smoke lingers in the air for a moment where his head was, and everyone is silent.

Usually there’s saran wrap around his mouth that he’s chewed into,

His hands are always bound with duct tape,

He’s always in his dressy shirt.

He never suspected he was going to die that day until he found himself somewhere dark, surrounded by the men in the white shirts and black suits.

That’s when he gradually knows, when he gets giddy and talks a lot.

Me, I was never like those men.

When I knew my time had come, I did not talk.

I had no last and final words to say.

On my knees, duct taped hands together, mouth unbound because of my silence,

I waited.

Now I know about those men I watched shot in the back of the head.

It’s the wait that is the worst. The wait for the pop. The knowledge that it’s going to hurt.

It’s coming, there’s no bargaining. There’s no forgiveness. There’s no escape. There’s no walking away. There’s no more past this.

And it’s going to happen any moment, but it’s never expected. No one is ever ready.

And it finally did happen, and I jumped out of shock. I jumped like someone had just touched my shoulder unexpectedly. I let out a gasp.

And after I realized it had happened there was the pain, and I was already face first on the pavement.

I saw the blood, black and pooling. And the shoes, the black and shined shoes. And then, just the blackness… the absence of light, the blackness.