Re: The Aristocrats
Posted: Sun Sep 09, 2018 6:52 am
[Whoa, sorry, didn't see I was up.]
He reached the top.
After clawing his way up those last few steps, Alex finally reached the top of the lighthouse. He was bleeding like a stuck pig, coughing up blood every few seconds, and he could have sworn he hacked up a piece of his lung on that last step. But he made it to the fucking top. He was on top of the world. Or as close to it as he had ever really come in the past two weeks. But it was over now. He wasn't going to make it back down. When he looked down at the bolt sticking out of his chest and sheer amount of blood that kept coming up when he coughed. The excruciating pain and inability to really feel his limbs didn't do much to improve his chances either.
This was the fucking end.
Well, it was a good ride. And sitting there, staring out in to the distance watching the sun and the water, Alex didn't regret a moment of it. He made it to the fucking end. He made it to the top of the world. He killed who he needed to kill, but he was finally going to be rid of that weight. No more fire. No more accusations. No more blame. Everything was finally going to end, and this time, it was going to end on his terms. Fuck Jimmy, fuck Danya, fuck whoever it was who took over Danya's job at the speakers, fuck the game and fuck everyone else. Nothing ever fucking went right on this god forsaken island, but this? This was going to go right.
Alex was going to do something, and do it perfectly, his luck on the island be damned.
"You ready for this, boy? You know your fate. It ain't pretty."
Fuck fate. Fuck the world. Fuck this game. This shit ain't cool anymore.
Alex is out.
Lying back on the platform, Alex stared up at the sky, struggling with every single breath he took. He stared, but couldn't really see anything. Everything was blurry, and dark, and had been for a while. But he wasn't fighting for his life. He wasn't swinging at a big target directly in front of him. He was just lying back, bleeding, and dying. And the adrenaline was wearing off, and the pain was getting worse. He couldn't even bring himself to pull the bolt from his chest. It just sat there. He didn't even try. Fuck it, he was dying anyways, what good would it do to try and pull the fucking thing out? That's just more god damn pain that he didn't want or need.
So this was really it.
This is where he was dying.
This was how he was dying.
...He honestly expected more. For all he did, for all that he went through and all that he put others through, this is what he was getting. Bleeding to death or drowning in his own blood. He really expected more. Well, maybe not more, but something different. Something... something like out of one of his grandfather's westerns. Or from the books he read, or the stories he heard from his family. Something like the final scene in the horror movie, the one that was supposed to end the franchise, where the monster finally dies. Some big, climactic scene. And this was what he was getting.
He had the fight.
He had the closest thing he was going to get to a sunset.
He even took someone out with him.
But it just wasn't right... It just didn't seem right. But there was nothing left to do about that now. He just had one last thing to do, and it would all be over. One final thing, and he could finally end his role in this horrible fucking game. It hurt, it hurt a lot, but he reached down to his belt and pulled loose the grenades. He coughed, and spat, and sucked in another ragged breath. He held them up in front of him, taking a good look at them. One was fine, the other had it's pin haphazardly stuck back in it.
They would do just fine.
"Well, this is it..."
Alex spoke slowly and carefully, interrupted by sporadic coughing, sucking breaths, and spitting blood. But he spoke.
"This is how it ends, huh?"
He turned the grenades over in his hands. Stared at them long and hard, and focused on them as much as he could to keep them from slipping out of sight. Everything was blurry, and just a little darker now.
"It needs something... more. After all this, I need to do... something."
And he wheezed, and coughed again, and spat another mouthful of blood out on the floor. And cleared his throat.
"Oh bury me not..."
It was hard to form the words, and it didn't sound like singing one bit, but it was what he wanted to do and god damn it he was going to do it. It was an old song, and he couldn't remember all the words, but he could hear it clear as day. Sung by his grandfather.
"On the lone prairie."
And he stopped, just for a moment, to pull free the safety clips.
"These words came soft."
Alex winced, and struggled to keep going. But he was going to finish if it took his very last breath.
"And painfully..."
It was finally going to end.
"From the pallid lips of a youth who lay."
He pulled one pin. Then pulled the other. It was hard, and he could barely tell he had a hold of the pins, but he used what strength he had left in his hands to finalize his choice.
"On his dying bed... at the close of day."
It was finally over...
Finally.
He couldn't let go of the levers.
"God damn it... It wasn't supposed to happen like this."
After all that has happened, he couldn't bring himself to just fucking end it when it was time to end it.
He reached the top.
After clawing his way up those last few steps, Alex finally reached the top of the lighthouse. He was bleeding like a stuck pig, coughing up blood every few seconds, and he could have sworn he hacked up a piece of his lung on that last step. But he made it to the fucking top. He was on top of the world. Or as close to it as he had ever really come in the past two weeks. But it was over now. He wasn't going to make it back down. When he looked down at the bolt sticking out of his chest and sheer amount of blood that kept coming up when he coughed. The excruciating pain and inability to really feel his limbs didn't do much to improve his chances either.
This was the fucking end.
Well, it was a good ride. And sitting there, staring out in to the distance watching the sun and the water, Alex didn't regret a moment of it. He made it to the fucking end. He made it to the top of the world. He killed who he needed to kill, but he was finally going to be rid of that weight. No more fire. No more accusations. No more blame. Everything was finally going to end, and this time, it was going to end on his terms. Fuck Jimmy, fuck Danya, fuck whoever it was who took over Danya's job at the speakers, fuck the game and fuck everyone else. Nothing ever fucking went right on this god forsaken island, but this? This was going to go right.
Alex was going to do something, and do it perfectly, his luck on the island be damned.
"You ready for this, boy? You know your fate. It ain't pretty."
Fuck fate. Fuck the world. Fuck this game. This shit ain't cool anymore.
Alex is out.
Lying back on the platform, Alex stared up at the sky, struggling with every single breath he took. He stared, but couldn't really see anything. Everything was blurry, and dark, and had been for a while. But he wasn't fighting for his life. He wasn't swinging at a big target directly in front of him. He was just lying back, bleeding, and dying. And the adrenaline was wearing off, and the pain was getting worse. He couldn't even bring himself to pull the bolt from his chest. It just sat there. He didn't even try. Fuck it, he was dying anyways, what good would it do to try and pull the fucking thing out? That's just more god damn pain that he didn't want or need.
So this was really it.
This is where he was dying.
This was how he was dying.
...He honestly expected more. For all he did, for all that he went through and all that he put others through, this is what he was getting. Bleeding to death or drowning in his own blood. He really expected more. Well, maybe not more, but something different. Something... something like out of one of his grandfather's westerns. Or from the books he read, or the stories he heard from his family. Something like the final scene in the horror movie, the one that was supposed to end the franchise, where the monster finally dies. Some big, climactic scene. And this was what he was getting.
He had the fight.
He had the closest thing he was going to get to a sunset.
He even took someone out with him.
But it just wasn't right... It just didn't seem right. But there was nothing left to do about that now. He just had one last thing to do, and it would all be over. One final thing, and he could finally end his role in this horrible fucking game. It hurt, it hurt a lot, but he reached down to his belt and pulled loose the grenades. He coughed, and spat, and sucked in another ragged breath. He held them up in front of him, taking a good look at them. One was fine, the other had it's pin haphazardly stuck back in it.
They would do just fine.
"Well, this is it..."
Alex spoke slowly and carefully, interrupted by sporadic coughing, sucking breaths, and spitting blood. But he spoke.
"This is how it ends, huh?"
He turned the grenades over in his hands. Stared at them long and hard, and focused on them as much as he could to keep them from slipping out of sight. Everything was blurry, and just a little darker now.
"It needs something... more. After all this, I need to do... something."
And he wheezed, and coughed again, and spat another mouthful of blood out on the floor. And cleared his throat.
"Oh bury me not..."
It was hard to form the words, and it didn't sound like singing one bit, but it was what he wanted to do and god damn it he was going to do it. It was an old song, and he couldn't remember all the words, but he could hear it clear as day. Sung by his grandfather.
"On the lone prairie."
And he stopped, just for a moment, to pull free the safety clips.
"These words came soft."
Alex winced, and struggled to keep going. But he was going to finish if it took his very last breath.
"And painfully..."
It was finally going to end.
"From the pallid lips of a youth who lay."
He pulled one pin. Then pulled the other. It was hard, and he could barely tell he had a hold of the pins, but he used what strength he had left in his hands to finalize his choice.
"On his dying bed... at the close of day."
It was finally over...
Finally.
He couldn't let go of the levers.
"God damn it... It wasn't supposed to happen like this."
After all that has happened, he couldn't bring himself to just fucking end it when it was time to end it.