My angry Death Story

OK, sorry everyone if this is really gory or badly written. I’m really angry right now and need to get it out of me…

Donnie walked down the dark lane, the cold rain attacking him from every side. His jet black docmartins shone in the spring moon, although twisted and contorted from the pouring rain. Donnie knew he was being fallowed. He had watched the murky shape move oddly and send its moon lit shadow against the silent grey buildings. Finally after several blocks of the paded souls of Donnie’s docmartins hitting the cold pavement, he stopped and turned around. The rain was thick around him like a morning fog, but he could easily spot the dark shape standing at least 3 feet away from him, the butt of a cigarette protruding from its unseen mouth. Donnie moved closer to the figure, trying to determin its identity. As he edged nearer to the dark silhouette he realized that it was a man. But, one of the strangest looking men he had ever laid eyes on. His eyes gleamed in the dim glow from an over head street light and his face was grim and weathered. Donnie could make out very little of the mans facial features, but something in the old mans hand caught his attention. It seemed to be a knife. It was long and narrow, and like the mans eyes it gleamed, in both the street light and the moon. Suddenly asthough the man was commanded to do so he jumped at Donnie, knocking him to the freezing wet pavement. Donnie let out a gasp as the man’s face came closer to his. His eyes were full of a pain Donnie could only reconize as his own. His face as well was full of stories Donnie did not have time to read. Just as Donnie came out of the trace the old man’s face had put him under, the man had raised his knife. He brought it down on Donnie’s lower stomach, the pain wafting through his body like a whip. The man slowly moved the knife up, towards Donnies heavily beating heart. Finally the man reached his goal. He took his knife out of Donnie’s stomach with great dificulty and plunged it back into the perimeter his feeble heart. The man twisted the knife with all his strenth around Donnie’s slowly failing muslce and finally cut up. At that moment Donnie’s life ended, his heart cut in two. The old man left his knife erect in Donnie’s bleeding body and stalked off in the cold rain.

By DantesPrayer

Just Be.