Kill your darlings.
His eyes rolled back a clear two seconds after the bullet tore through his chest.
By through I mean into the front through the chest turning and churning and then just blowing the back clean out like a visual megaphone shout.
A megaphone rattled with a clear-cut reply – he’s out.
He was a father, a worker, a grafter, a soldier, an author, he’d fathered a daughter.
A warrior, a trooper, the main part of a group.
The class clown, the cheer us on one. the nice word for anyone.
The last penny guy.
The man I just watched die.
Stood there all helpless as back rolled his eyes.
Crimson hadn’t landed when I turned and disbanded.
Arms by my sides, huge weight realised.
The night train I’d ride without him by my side.
You’d meet me at Euston at the end of the bridge.
You knew what I needed – you’re humor always the best.
You’re eyes rolled back a clear two seconds after …. the bullet tore through your chest.
© G.P Williamson 2017