I rolled him onto his back.
His eyes were wide open.
Blood trickled from his mouth.
I touched his throat, feeling for a pulse.
It was a dumb thing to do.
Cold as he was, there remained a warmth in his eyes,
as though some reflection had gotten trapped there.
Bob Thurber is the author of “Paperboy: A Dysfunctional Novel” and four collections of short fiction. Regarded as a master of Flash and Micro Fiction, his work has appeared in Esquire and other magazines, been anthologized 60 times, received a long list of of awards, and been utilized in schools and colleges throughout the world. He resides in Massachusetts. Visit his website at BobThurber.net.
That really got my attention! I was wondering if as he passed, someone showed up to take him to heaven!
Hmm, really opens up the imagination to a world of possible and longer, story arcs.
This caught me by the throat! Complete and perfect in only 50 words ——-
BLAMMO!
This makes me wonder about his last thought. Perhaps it was ‘I really love twinkies’. Hahaha. That would be my last thought anyway.
This spooky ending twisted in my gut as I read it. Perfect!