Where do you go to hide from Death?
When I bought my big beautiful bed, fantasies had fired off my imagination of a cornucopia of wild nights with an even wilder lover. We would twist, roll and pant through countless sexual dances until exhaustion claimed us.
Well, one part of my fantasy came true. I do twist, roll and pant. The Lover? He is nowhere in the picture. No, Death has claimed my lover’s place as we wage a contentious battle among my eight hundred thread count floral sheets. He tries to take what I am unwilling to give. My life.
His arsenal is dastardly and well equipped. My chest roils with pain as a wall of sharp daggers pierces it. I struggle to breathe as fluid surrounds my heart and fills my lungs. He pulls me down into the dark depths of nothingness. I toss and turn, drowning in my big beautiful bed.
My need for air overcomes Death’s wily tactics. Today, like the day before, I declare victory in our long-standing fight. Sometimes I am not sure the outcome will be in my favor. At times our desperate battle rages on for months with no relief. Other times it lasts for mere hours. I am never totally free of Death. He bombards me with minor skirmishes daily. Peace? I don’t know what this is. Payne is my constant companion. It is a nagging reminder that every breath I take is hard-won. So I ignore Death and make Payne my best friend.
The way I see it, if Death wants me so badly he’s going to have to chase my dying ass as Payne and I zip up and down the streets of Hell on my electric blue moped. Life isn’t easy, but the alternative is not an option.
Welcome to my new home, Hell, Texas, population 3,258.
Want to find out more about author Scotney Storm or Brooklyn Sinclair, the young woman who just moved to Hell? Visit chroniclekeeperz.com.
