DEATH
A piece of short fiction. Tell me what you think!
Something Was Missing
Henry stood outside the restaurant on a blistery winter night, trying to flag down a cab when it happened. A black SUV came barreling down the street, and without warning rolled down the back window and shot him twice in the chest. Henry never saw his attacker’s face. He never saw the gun. By the time he heard gunshots he was overwhelmed by stabbing pain in his chest. He collapsed onto a pile of snow, clutching his heart. The SUV disappeared into the night, never to be seen again.
Jack and his wife Michelle step out of the restaurant, not noticing the wounded man at first. Michelle stands under the awning while Jack tries to flag down a cab. Then, she hears a soft moaning. She glances around puzzled until she hears a second, louder moan. That’s when she sees the body, curled up in the snow, bleeding.
“Jack! Jack, come quick!” she shouts, running over and kneeling over Henry’s body. Henry winces in pain. She puts her hand gently on his face. Jack comes up behind her, muttering “Oh my God...” under his breath.
“Go inside and get help Jack,” Michelle says. But he stands where he is, clutching a carryout bag, as if something has cemented his feet to the ground. She turns to him and shouts, “Go Jack! Hurry!”
Without a word he rushes inside. Henry’s breath grows shallower and more forced with every passing second. Michelle looks him in the eye.
“You’re going to be alright,” she says.
Henry meets her gaze. Blood trickles down his lip. “No...” he moans, “too...late...”
Jack rushes out the front door. “I called an ambulance. They’re on their way,” he says nervously.
Michelle continues looking into Henry’s eyes, but something’s different now. Something is missing from them, almost as if all their color had been sucked out. She knows. She doesn’t know how, but she can feel it.
“No,” she says, “it’s too late.”
Something Was Missing
Henry stood outside the restaurant on a blistery winter night, trying to flag down a cab when it happened. A black SUV came barreling down the street, and without warning rolled down the back window and shot him twice in the chest. Henry never saw his attacker’s face. He never saw the gun. By the time he heard gunshots he was overwhelmed by stabbing pain in his chest. He collapsed onto a pile of snow, clutching his heart. The SUV disappeared into the night, never to be seen again.
Jack and his wife Michelle step out of the restaurant, not noticing the wounded man at first. Michelle stands under the awning while Jack tries to flag down a cab. Then, she hears a soft moaning. She glances around puzzled until she hears a second, louder moan. That’s when she sees the body, curled up in the snow, bleeding.
“Jack! Jack, come quick!” she shouts, running over and kneeling over Henry’s body. Henry winces in pain. She puts her hand gently on his face. Jack comes up behind her, muttering “Oh my God...” under his breath.
“Go inside and get help Jack,” Michelle says. But he stands where he is, clutching a carryout bag, as if something has cemented his feet to the ground. She turns to him and shouts, “Go Jack! Hurry!”
Without a word he rushes inside. Henry’s breath grows shallower and more forced with every passing second. Michelle looks him in the eye.
“You’re going to be alright,” she says.
Henry meets her gaze. Blood trickles down his lip. “No...” he moans, “too...late...”
Jack rushes out the front door. “I called an ambulance. They’re on their way,” he says nervously.
Michelle continues looking into Henry’s eyes, but something’s different now. Something is missing from them, almost as if all their color had been sucked out. She knows. She doesn’t know how, but she can feel it.
“No,” she says, “it’s too late.”