Last Encounter

It was a three second glance that felt like eternity. The universe shrank to close the space between us, and erased all the people blocking the way. There was no longer an airport, and that adrenalin rush-run quickly to catch your plane feeling was gone. Three seconds silenced the loud sounds of busy people and took away the distracting aromas of the nearby food court, where crowds had gathered to satisfy their hunger. The hunger was gone.

People scattered like dropped marbles, willy nilly crazy-like in complete confusion. They saw the gun.

The last thing I saw was the spark.


Patient 29 at Ground Zero

She possessed an X-ray gaze and spoke in a nonsense tongue that made people very angry.  They hated how she looked at them; it was unsettling.  On the inside, she was already an abomination, so they admitted her.

Patient 29 now lived in a white box.  She was slowly recovering from a laryngectomy.  Her eyes had been scooped out of her head, and they severed her spine so that she would not injure herself.  Feeding tubes and catheters kept her healthy.

Once a day, a priest would come and give her religion.  They said it would rehabilitate her soul.