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skonen_bladesThere’s a moment in everyone’s life when the subject of death becomes a certainty and ceases to be abstract. It’s a final shift of perception that kicks the mind into a different level.
It usually lasts a few seconds. Sometimes minutes. For the really unlucky, it can last weeks.
Spelunkers feel it when they start to get drowsy and know that help is not on the way. Pilots feel it when they can see the leaves on the trees just meters away from the windshield. Jumpers feel it just after their feet leave the sill.
The strong hands wrapped around Martin’s throat were having that effect.
Moments earlier, the fight had taken a turn for the worse when epithets were thrown concerning the assailant’s girlfriend. These comments had whisked the fight from street brawl to primitive battle. It had switched from assault to probable homicide in a few syllables.
Martin’s vision was starting to gray out and with a shock, he realized that he was actually dying. There would be no act three. He wouldn’t wake up in a hospital bed. The other guy’s rational mind had completely checked out.
The inarticulate red face pressed close to his was fixed in a spasming mask of rage. The owner of that face would keep squeezing until bones broke.
It was a horrible thought. This man was going to take Martin’s life with his bare hands.
It was that thought that made Martin’s body spasm and buck like a fish. He thrashed.
The hot fingers around his neck adjusted their grip.
Martin’s leg connected with his assailant’s testicles and suddenly, a world of painful air whistled through his constricted throat. The other guy had let go.
Martin ran, sucking as much air as he could into his lungs with every hobbling step.
He never wanted to come that close to death again.
Martin was a different person after that.
tags
It usually lasts a few seconds. Sometimes minutes. For the really unlucky, it can last weeks.
Spelunkers feel it when they start to get drowsy and know that help is not on the way. Pilots feel it when they can see the leaves on the trees just meters away from the windshield. Jumpers feel it just after their feet leave the sill.
The strong hands wrapped around Martin’s throat were having that effect.
Moments earlier, the fight had taken a turn for the worse when epithets were thrown concerning the assailant’s girlfriend. These comments had whisked the fight from street brawl to primitive battle. It had switched from assault to probable homicide in a few syllables.
Martin’s vision was starting to gray out and with a shock, he realized that he was actually dying. There would be no act three. He wouldn’t wake up in a hospital bed. The other guy’s rational mind had completely checked out.
The inarticulate red face pressed close to his was fixed in a spasming mask of rage. The owner of that face would keep squeezing until bones broke.
It was a horrible thought. This man was going to take Martin’s life with his bare hands.
It was that thought that made Martin’s body spasm and buck like a fish. He thrashed.
The hot fingers around his neck adjusted their grip.
Martin’s leg connected with his assailant’s testicles and suddenly, a world of painful air whistled through his constricted throat. The other guy had let go.
Martin ran, sucking as much air as he could into his lungs with every hobbling step.
He never wanted to come that close to death again.
Martin was a different person after that.
tags