Just a one shot. Determine it how you wish. I'm not even sure what it means. Reviews are welcome, flames will be used to light your shorts on fire. Constructive criticismgladly accepted.- Jackie.

Drip, Drop.

Jeremy carelessly pushed back a stand of his jet black, shaggy hair as the rain beat down harder on his back like pine needles. He could feel it now more than ever. When he first left his home an hour ago, the rain was relatively heavy, yes, but he seemed not to notice it. But now, a few minutes before his end, everything was sharper.

It's funny how the last few minutes of your life are more defined, as if your whole time on earth has been spent in black and white, and then it's suddenly switched to a miraculous glow. Your perceptions of the world around you become stronger, the colors you see become brighter, the moments you witness every day seemed to drag on longer than normal. Or maybe it's because you're trying to cherish those memories. The memories that seemed to be dripping out of you, just as the rain was dripping from Jeremy's hair. Drip, drop.

He tugged on the neck of the noose to make sure it was securely tightened, and threw the rope end over a large tree branch he was sitting under. The tree, although no sun out, seemed to cast a ghastly shadow over Jeremy. He hauled himself up the tree by supporting himself with the two rope ends. A few times his combat boots slipped and he slid down a foot, but he regained his posture and carried on until he finally got a few meters off the ground. When he found the right branch halfway up the oak tree, he delicately tied the long end of the rope onto a thick branch and tugged once more.

It should definitely be able to hold his 120-pound bulk.

Jeremy took off a few of his necklaces, and tied them around the tree. At least someone will remember he was here. A silent tear ran down his already wet cheek. Drip, drop.

The few minutes spent sitting in that tree seemed to last forever. He thought of the friends he'd made, friends he'd almost made, friends he kept close, and enemies he kept closer. He thought of all the opportunities he had in life, and how his mother was always telling him that he could achieve greatness if he set his mind to it.

He left her a painting before he set out tonight; a painting of a young boy, waving goodbye on the back of a train. A red and black old fashioned locomotive, one of the ancient ones used in old cop and bandit movies.

He left nothing for his stepdad.

Jeremy sighed as he looked out on the horizon that was disguised through the trees, as he picked at his black nailpolish. He remembered how one of his elementary teachers had told him that the horizon was always seven miles away, and he thought about running. Looking back at the noose quickly made up his mind.

He positioned the noose around his scrawny neck decorated with green and black marks from his fake necklaces that had worn out over years of showering and pool chlorine during the summer. He tightened it briskly, and stopped to hear the last, infinite clap of thunder in the distance as he through himself out of the tree. Drip, drop.

If they say your whole life flashes before your eyes when you die, it's most likely a lie. All Jeremy saw was a giant flash of lightning that illuminated the entire woods, unmasking all it's hidden features and disclosing the secret ones, just before his neck cracked like a twig, jolting his spinal cord upwards and forcing nerves to spill out the back of his neck like angel hair pasta. He died forcefully, painfully, and willfully. Just like the last time.