How to Deal With Death

Short Story by: Jason Bentley

Summary

Looking through the eyes of somebody who is dying and trying to hide the fact that there will be no tomorrow.

Content

Submitted: February 18, 2013

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: February 18, 2013

A A A

A A A


There was a lot of blood.  An unhealthy amount I should say and I’m no doctor.

They always say that death comes swiftly and I never fully understood until it was on my doorstep. That split second that brought me here.  

You know that moment when you’re knee deep in shit and you think about that one tiny decision you should have made instead or that one thing you shouldn’t have said and wish you could just take it all back? I’m having one of those right now. I should have zigged when I zagged. In its place I was greeted with the one-two punch of a pair of copper jackets dancing merrily through my innards and leaving a mess as they escaped out my backside like teenagers jumping out the window when the cops show up at a party. No remorse at all. All I heard was the quick pop pop as the bullets came crashing down into me and left out the back.

It happened so fast and so suddenly that my first reaction wasn’t to shriek in pain but to keep running. My body convulsed into panic mode as it realized that a few organs that were necessary for my bodily functions were no longer working properly. So I ran a few more drunken steps, stumbling along for footing until I eventually came crashing down with a thud. My mind was racing with the last seconds as I tried to comprehend the misfortune that had just taken place. I was shot? Once the thought had connected the pain came shooting through me like lightning, instantaneous anguish that buckled me over. I hugged myself, as if it would hold in the life that was slowly seeping from the two holes that had so rudely been created by the unwanted guests.

My forearms were coated in my blood as I looked down to assess the damage that had taken place. Two small holes, maybe a half inch in diameter, were neatly placed in my midsection. The holes themselves were pouring blood, a huge problem when it comes to living. It surprised me just how much blood could escape as I stared at my wound for what seemed like hours. It didn’t look too bad I guess. At least I forced myself to believe this.

But was I wrong. Most bullet entry wounds are relatively small but the magic happens on the inside. Many a times a bullet begins to tumble and spin as it hits flesh, tearing the tissue and mutilating the body before leaving a massive exit wound several times larger than the entry one. This is usually what kills. Truth be told I wasn’t aware of any of this information. If I did I might have lost control a substantial amount more than I was at the moment.

Unbeknownst to me, my stomach had been shredded like a wet balloon and the contents of my MRE I had for lunch were now seeping down into my intestines. My liver had a golf ball sized void and all my precious blood was slipping through my fingertips. I wasn’t in the best of shape but I was trying to stay positive. I had no idea I was dying.

But something magical was happening. As my body realized that there was no tomorrow, it quickly drowned me in endorphins, covering the nerve receptors, keeping pain signals from being sent to the brain. The prolonged anguish that I had been experiencing for so long was slowly lifting, leaving me chilled and astonishingly smug. I sat myself up, leaning against a bullet ridden oak, forcing myself to try to breathe as my lungs gradually filled with blood.

Then I felt it. I started laughing uncontrollably. I can’t tell you why but I let out the most heinous laugh I can describe. It broke the silence and echoed off the trees but I can tell you I didn’t care. Why was I laughing? At that moment, a drug known as dimethyltryptamine or DMT was entering my system. Produced naturally by the body, I was now experiencing the psychedelic symptoms that I had no familiarity with. Colors changed, time seemed to slow and soon I felt myself beginning to leave my body. I could see myself as I appeared to float mere feet from the ground. This was some trippy shit.

My hands tingled with delight and I continued to giggle as I felt the weight of death slowly begin to subside. I was going to be alright. The optimistic notion of this occurrence was drowning out my sanity and I gave in whole heartedly. Take me away from this place, I whispered to myself through weary ears. I smiled one last time and gave in, feeling myself glide over my ruined remains, climbing higher awaiting the inevitable.

At that moment I died.

There was a lot of blood.  An unhealthy amount I should say and I’m no doctor.

They always say that death comes swiftly and I never fully understood until it was on my doorstep. That split second that brought me here.  

You know that moment when you’re knee deep in shit and you think about that one tiny decision you should have made instead or that one thing you shouldn’t have said and wish you could just take it all back? I’m having one of those right now. I should have zigged when I zagged. In its place I was greeted with the one-two punch of a pair of copper jackets dancing merrily through my innards and leaving a mess as they escaped out my backside like teenagers jumping out the window when the cops show up at a party. No remorse at all. All I heard was the quick pop pop as the bullets came crashing down into me and left out the back.

It happened so fast and so suddenly that my first reaction wasn’t to shriek in pain but to keep running. My body convulsed into panic mode as it realized that a few organs that were necessary for my bodily functions were no longer working properly. So I ran a few more drunken steps, stumbling along for footing until I eventually came crashing down with a thud. My mind was racing with the last seconds as I tried to comprehend the misfortune that had just taken place. I was shot? Once the thought had connected the pain came shooting through me like lightning, instantaneous anguish that buckled me over. I hugged myself, as if it would hold in the life that was slowly seeping from the two holes that had so rudely been created by the unwanted guests.

My forearms were coated in my blood as I looked down to assess the damage that had taken place. Two small holes, maybe a half inch in diameter, were neatly placed in my midsection. The holes themselves were pouring blood, a huge problem when it comes to living. It surprised me just how much blood could escape as I stared at my wound for what seemed like hours. It didn’t look too bad I guess. At least I forced myself to believe this.

But was I wrong. Most bullet entry wounds are relatively small but the magic happens on the inside. Many a times a bullet begins to tumble and spin as it hits flesh, tearing the tissue and mutilating the body before leaving a massive exit wound several times larger than the entry one. This is usually what kills. Truth be told I wasn’t aware of any of this information. If I did I might have lost control a substantial amount more than I was at the moment.

Unbeknownst to me, my stomach had been shredded like a wet balloon and the contents of my MRE I had for lunch were now seeping down into my intestines. My liver had a golf ball sized void and all my precious blood was slipping through my fingertips. I wasn’t in the best of shape but I was trying to stay positive. I had no idea I was dying.

But something magical was happening. As my body realized that there was no tomorrow, it quickly drowned me in endorphins, covering the nerve receptors, keeping pain signals from being sent to the brain. The prolonged anguish that I had been experiencing for so long was slowly lifting, leaving me chilled and astonishingly smug. I sat myself up, leaning against a bullet ridden oak, forcing myself to try to breathe as my lungs gradually filled with blood.

Then I felt it. I started laughing uncontrollably. I can’t tell you why but I let out the most heinous laugh I can describe. It broke the silence and echoed off the trees but I can tell you I didn’t care. Why was I laughing? At that moment, a drug known as dimethyltryptamine or DMT was entering my system. Produced naturally by the body, I was now experiencing the psychedelic symptoms that I had no familiarity with. Colors changed, time seemed to slow and soon I felt myself beginning to leave my body. I could see myself as I appeared to float mere feet from the ground. This was some trippy shit.

My hands tingled with delight and I continued to giggle as I felt the weight of death slowly begin to subside. I was going to be alright. The optimistic notion of this occurrence was drowning out my sanity and I gave in whole heartedly. Take me away from this place, I whispered to myself through weary ears. I smiled one last time and gave in, feeling myself glide over my ruined remains, climbing higher awaiting the inevitable.

At that moment I died.


© Copyright 2016 Jason Bentley. All rights reserved.

How to Deal With Death

Status: Finished

Genre: Action and Adventure

Houses:

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Action and Adventure

Houses:

Summary

Looking through the eyes of somebody who is dying and trying to hide the fact that there will be no tomorrow.

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