Guns (sevenmm) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2009-05-21 23:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | death, guns |
Who: Guns and Death
What: Post drive-by shooting.
Where: Morris Heights, the Bronx, a run-down suburb.
When: Late afternoon.
Warnings: More dead people -- gore, death, social commentary.
For the last few moments of the girl's life, she saw something very strange. The world around her had faded, and her mother's sobs and frantic cries were distant, a whole world away. She is not looking at her mother at all, but the man that stands over her shoulder, invisible to the rest, and glowing.
"Are you an angel?" she says.
He blinks. He is wearing all white, but it's cheap -- sweatpants and a blank tee-shirt, no shoes. Stepping around the grieving parent, Guns crouches, and holds her hand. The girl will die in a purple shirt and capris with butterflies on the bottom. Her mother scrimped and saved at her job at the gas station to get light-up sneakers. Her baby was going to go to college. Now her blood is all over the cheap carpet because there's a bullet in her stomach and Guns bring his face close.
He says, "No." And his eyes open up to show every animal children see in nightmares, bears and wolves and lions and tigers and scorpions and spiders and snakes and leeches and that is the last thing the 8-year-old sees before her eyes roll back into her head and she dies.
The drive-by was just another pointless crime, because it was the wrong house on the wrong street on the wrong day, and the only point it makes is that the gang that committed it doesn't know shit and everyone is at risk. Meanwhile, in the same precinct, a gas station has been held up, and the police shoot the culprits, who drew weapons too late.
As the girl's life leaves the room, Guns feels another presence enter it. "Well, hello." He doesn't even bother looking over his shoulder. "Long time no see."
The mother is sobbing and sobbing and crying my poor baby, my poor baby, while Guns dips his finger in the blood and puts it in his mouth.