Death Will Come When I'm God Damn Ready

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

The conflict between death and life.

~I was listening to Godsmack - I Am while writing this. This is solely my interpretation of the song, reading or listening to the lyrics may help some understand, but then again it may be even more confusing.~
Comments are greatly appreciated.


Staring into the hotel’s bathroom mirror, he grasps onto the porcelain sink. His hands are trembling, white knuckles protruding through his pale skin. Snarling he leans into the betraying glass, his reflection is not what he sees. Straggly black hair mats his head, his eyes are bloodshot and clouded. Demon eyes.

This is not what you’re suppose to be, a scoundrel, a filthy addict. Come on young man, take my hand and let’s leave this place. There really are better things beyond these dark corners. Smiling the shadow speaks to him.

Shaking his head furiously, the man disagrees. Vainly he attempts to smear the apparition from the mirrors grimy surface. You lied, he yells. The veins in his neck bulging out from the tension in his head. This not happening now, I don’t need your help, He spits in disgust.

I promised to help do you not remember? I thought you considered me a friend, some one to guide you from this darkened life. I have come now, and brought my assistance. The shadow out stretches his bony hand.

Grimacing, the man lets his gaze fall to the mirrors peeling rim. In the shadow’s extend hand, lays a shining needle, and a single glass vile. The same burning need, churning in his veins. No, The man lets out a battle cry. Shaking he refrains himself from the temptation. Death, will come when I God damn ready.

Just give in boy, the shadow pleads, exasperatedly. We are friends, I’ve been with you through it all. Those wretched, dark days, I came and found you. I picked you back up and showed you the world again. Now I must show you the end. The shadow takes a cautious step forward, he is now a mere foot behind the man.

Throwing himself back from the mirror, the man dashes out of the dimly lighted bathroom. Retrieving his jacket the man stumbles out the door, without looking back. Death will come when I’m good and ready, he mumbled, venom lacing each word.


Submitted: November 18, 2010

© Copyright 2021 BulletofCorruption . All rights reserved.

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Comments

Tye Scribbens

Not a huge Godsmack fan but I know the feeling your character is experiencing. Addiction is a cunning and evil disease. I know from experience. Good stuff!!!

Thu, November 18th, 2010 9:39pm

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Thanks for commenting >;)

Thu, November 18th, 2010 1:54pm

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