Thursday, August 5, 2010
The Way Out
Ben Johnson couldn’t predict the future; he couldn’t even predict the next few hours’ weather. But at this point in life he needed to know what way fate would take him. The feeble attempts he made to fix the errors hadn’t really worked, they had just reinforced that he was a loser, a failure at everything he did. Defeated, he mixed up a cocktail and gulped it down, a drink of shame, humiliation and trepidation. He then sat down and waited. Waited for the drink of death to do its work.
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Oh, I liked the twist at the end. Nicely done in such a small space.
ReplyDeleteThank you Thom!
ReplyDeleteCertainly surprising. I kind of wanted more, but it was a satisfying story in such a short way. :)
ReplyDeleteWow, that's an extreme way to be certain of one's future. It happens fairly often, though. Sadly.
ReplyDeletePieces like these always make me wonder: just how bad of a life he must be living to see death as the only way out. Well-written.
ReplyDeletean exercise of excellence in brevity. Bravo!
ReplyDelete