The man was lying face up in the cold snow, now running red with blood. He held a crumpled bloodstained photograph in his left hand, an empty pistol in his right, the slide back and a single spent casing next to his head. The man breathed shallowly and difficultly, he did after all have three bullets in his chest. He was dying, the man knew it, if the bullets in his lungs or the blood-loss didn't get him, the cold would. "How did it come to this? One last job, easy, quick, simple... how did it turn out like this?" The man thought to himself as he stared up into the dark cloudy sky, snow gently burying him in his soon-to-be grave. He loosened his grip on the pistol and he couldn't feel his fingers, he wasn't going to make it. He'd be lucky if the found him before spring. His vision darkened, blurred around the edges and he thought, "Well, this is it... been a hell of a ride... but they all gotta end sometime..."
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They say, that right before you die, that your whole life flashes before your eyes. Bullshit. What flashes in front of your eyes if you die a particularly horrible death like I did, is the chain reaction of events that directly led up to your death. For me, it all started about a month before, in my office like usual.
I was busy using my red pen to figure out just how much longer I could keep up my terribly rich lifestyle. The answer, in short, was not very long. My PI business, that's private investigator business for those of you who aren't too bright, had basically been flushed down the toilet. I barely had enough money for my car payment, let alone keeping everything up and running for the business. I closed the book and put the cap back on my red pen, putting them both in the airtight secure location called my unlocked desk drawer. I turned in my chair to look out the window, the city looked gloomy to say the least; dark clouds, heavy snowfall, muddy streets and the usual city sounds that can pierce through glass. I sighed, wondering if my office was high up enough to kill me if I jumped out the window. Clearly, I didn't have much to look forward to.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
They say, that right before you die, that your whole life flashes before your eyes. Bullshit. What flashes in front of your eyes if you die a particularly horrible death like I did, is the chain reaction of events that directly led up to your death. For me, it all started about a month before, in my office like usual.
I was busy using my red pen to figure out just how much longer I could keep up my terribly rich lifestyle. The answer, in short, was not very long. My PI business, that's private investigator business for those of you who aren't too bright, had basically been flushed down the toilet. I barely had enough money for my car payment, let alone keeping everything up and running for the business. I closed the book and put the cap back on my red pen, putting them both in the airtight secure location called my unlocked desk drawer. I turned in my chair to look out the window, the city looked gloomy to say the least; dark clouds, heavy snowfall, muddy streets and the usual city sounds that can pierce through glass. I sighed, wondering if my office was high up enough to kill me if I jumped out the window. Clearly, I didn't have much to look forward to.
