Dance in the Full Moon

O, the Frailty of Memory

Monday, September 3, 2012

9.3

Augenbite of inwit. Conscience. The pangs of remorse. Guilt.

Well, I didn't really start out with the intent of killing a man, but he disrespects me in front of my boys. What am I supposed to do, stand aside? Not happening. So they beat him up. I get the last shot but there's nothing left; a bag of wheezing bones. So I kicked him, hard, in the side. I figure I can't do any more damage than they. So he had broken ribs and I punctured his lung. He spent the last few minutes of his life drowning on air.

Do I regret it? No. But I regret being caught.

8 comments:

  1. Did you finish it, then?

    Oh, goodness, this hurts like being in a sauna that's too hot for my lungs. It's good. "A bag of wheezing bones" is something I can envision perhaps a bit too well. But the man's assault is on the speaker, and the speaker lets others do the hard work of getting recompense?

    I mean, it's wrong already, but that makes it seem more wrong.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I just figured you got the first three words from *Ulysses.*

    ReplyDelete
  3. You read the whole thing? I'm certainly impressed. Did it make any sense?

    This sort of sounds like what an adult Stilson would do. I'm not sure why. Then again, Stilson never got past age eight.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Interesting this reminded you of Stilson; it actually reminded me a little bit of Ender.

    ReplyDelete
  5. But Ender didn't let others do his dirty work, so to speak. Not with Stilson or with Bonzo. I suppose he does a bit with the last game, but that was his role.

    Then again, it could very well be Achilles.

    ReplyDelete