by Shannon Bell
I look at this photo of my soul. It’s blurry, shades of bitterness, anger and disappointment swirl like a vortex.
My light no longer shines. I am no one to nobody. I have nothing. I am nothing.
The bullet sits there, mocking me, my name scratched onto its cold surface.
Death watches me, loading the gun with my autographed cartridge.
“Please,” I beg. “Take me. End this.” The victim inside, it craves a tragic, beautiful ending.
That sweet angel of death, he strokes my cheek and smiles. “You’re mine now. Death will unfuck you like life never could, my friend.”
Author bio: Shannon Bell is addicted to words. You will find him madly writing away in the spare time he has available between holding down a full-time job, being part of a dysfunctional family and looking after his attention seeking dog. His stories have been published in Dark Edifice, Short & Twisted, 101 Fiction and strippedlit500. You can follow Shannon on Twitter at @ShannonBell1967.
Snapped is part of 101 Fiction issue 23.