Attack

The Attack 

“What are you? Some kind of friggin Ninj. . .” He never got the rest of the word out. The razor sharp star hit him smack in the middle of his forehead, splitting his skull open like an apple, right to the core. He stood there, watching his body bod y fall backwards, only two points of the Shuriken  protruding above his eyebrows. The black-cloaked assassin slipped into the shadow y dark fissure – into an absolute absence of light; now only o nly his leather-thong wrapped leg visible, slowly disappearing into the black hole. He looked down at his mortal bod y, wondering why he was still standing. Was this one of those movies like Ghost ? W Was as he dreaming? This couldn’t be happening. He raised his right arm, curled his fingers, and swung downward, trying to pound his chest. That would wake him from this horrible dream. Only, Only, he didn’t feel anything. There was no sound. No pain. Nothing there. He looked down again and saw his body floating in a crimson lake. Spreading vivid red. Enveloping, and creeping further, widening as it grew. grew.  Now,  Now, fear! Fear that it was real. Fear that he was truly dead. Was Was this what it was like? What now? He felt emotion. Strange. Then, the realization that there was nothing n othing more to fear. He began to relax – to drift. He was moving towards the hole – grey shadows darkening to black. He was being  pulled into the abyss.

Childhood thoughts. His father locking him in a closet when he was bad. Dark.  No light at first, then a crack. His eyes got used to it. He would stop crying and curl up shaking. This was different. This felt final. His mind cleared. He allowed himself to be drawn in. He felt joy – and an d freedom.  No more human senses. Just peace and quiet. Oh, so quiet.