Dying Day

A bad man makes a discovery about his true nature

art by author

Let me tell you a story about the day I died.

I’d been out on parole for about ninety days — a season I spent drinking and enjoying freedom and fighting the hands of the clock, wishing with all my might to slow down the passage of time. I wanted to enjoy every moment I had left in my rediscovered freedom. For eighteen years I’d been fixated …