the last meeting…

Image: Old Hay Barn by Kelley Frost, DeviantArt
I saw its ceiling from where I lay. The tumbledown shack that stood between the sea and the village… It was uninhabited, except for him and me.
“Where is she? What have you done to her? Tell me, now!”, he seethed.
The tip of his knife began to mark my bare skin in scarlet. I shouted, my eyes blinded by the tears of pain.
“I don’t know anything, it’s the truth. You have to believe me”, I said fervently, struggling with the knots that bound my hands behind my back.
“You killed her, didn’t you? You think other lives don’t matter. Well, they do. You’ll pay for sending good people to heaven”, he replied. His frame came above mine one last time. It made me think I was being played. Was this one of those hidden camera shows like Candid Camera or Scare Tactics? It was unreal. He wore only trunks and a cloak, on which there was a residue of dust. He had a full beard, no moustache, and his eyes were but slits staring me down in rage. They were the last I saw of him before the darkness fell on my world.
“It’s not me. You got the wrong guy. You’re making a mistake”, I cried, trying to convince him. But he said nothing. Moments later, I felt him drag me along the sand. And I heard the splash as I fell into the sea. And the splash was followed by two shots. A piercing pain shoots up from my knees, sweeps my mind of its thoughts.
Buried alive at sea, the coffin a vessel that turns with the changing breeze, unsure of being found, left to bleed to death by relatives of victims… it is a deserved sentence for the most wanted mafia kingpin of the county. Even I do agree on that.
Alas, for me, he turned out to be my doppelganger.


Shared @ The Sunday Whirl & Thursday Tales.


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© Leo (30th August, 2011)

Poetry & writing to me are to me, a breath of fresh air in a life that is sometimes covered by the smoke of sorrow or self doubt. They also become the sweets I share to celebrate when life offers me a reason to. But most of all, they are to me, my life. For each word I write is a piece of my heart, a thought that just had to find its way into the world.

8 thoughts on “the last meeting…

  1. Very nice!! Especially in the end. brilliant.. very dark! is it is consciousness that kills him? if so is it a suicide? (You see, I am a little less bright comparitively.. )

  2. So that explains my excuse of being a bit (lot) dumb.. the problem was the word "doppelganger" my vocab is not so good and googling gave me a meaning that the word means a dark side of person, so I mistook the whole story..  now that you have explained and I read again.. I can say that it is an wonderful narration..

  3. So that explains my excuse of being a bit (lot) dumb.. the problem was the word "doppelganger" my vocab is not so good and googling gave me a meaning that the word means a dark side of person, so I mistook the whole story..  now that you have explained and I read again.. I can say that it is an wonderful narration..

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