Two Things I Did Not Know
by Michael J. Solender
The workmanship displayed on the apparatus was shoddy and certainly nothing to feel proud about. Yet there it was on display for the gathering of notables.
The cuts made in the flooring were jagged and showed burn marks from where the dull blades of the circular saw dragged in their failing. Such inferior work was never exhibited in my shop. Yes, my medium of choice was a much softer material, but still I showed respect for the craft.
The hinges were not even brass. At least they bore the load they were intended to shoulder. Ironically they were stainless steel and my boots, stained and soiled, rested squarely upon them.
My boots were standard issue and had never trod on any surface that was not concrete before today. I liked the way my toes felt inside them as I shuffled up the wooden stairs to the first and only landing. Warm and tingly. They were alive.
I breathed in the air exhaled by the very ones who refused to hold my gaze. Their breath stank inside my lungs and tamped down the very minute amount of remorse I had left. It was replaced with contempt. Their fear warmed my cold sensibility as I steeled myself.
It was in the next few moments I learned two things I did not know.
You can hear your own neck snap, broken like a stale pretzel, when you drop through the trap door.
You don't die immediately as it takes time to asphyxiate. No pain though. With your neck broken, your spinal cord is severed and cannot send the pain impulses to your brain.
Maybe you can tell the others.
Yes, Michael, this did cheer me up --immensely! Thank you. Laughs. I love the "feel" of this, every detail as if I am walking that story. I can smell it. --that's powerful.
Oooooo, nice. I love the way you can play with textures and details. The first person narrator is likeable, and more so when he tells us it doesn't hurt to get hung.
Ouch!
Thx all - Glad to creep you out.
One of the best moments for this, the first day of Twenty'Ten was reading this piece that felt like the warm crush of elegant fabric, annoited with the scent and the touch of her oh-so lovely body, as she speaks the words that soothes and captivates the senses of the man unaware of the cool gun's barrel against the side of the neck....
And then the trigger gets released by her wonderful finger: and the sound shatters and the sound returns me to a perfection that flows like your piece Michael...
Seductive, bold, and witty, I felt as if this was a story that a Vincent Minelli would have directed if his mind would have touched upon such fields.
Thank you Michael. And to you, a most Happy Twenty'Ten.
zar you are most kind...
Perspicuously deep. I'm kind of scared and I want to make sure that my neck is okay. Very engaging. I hardly even blinked while I read it.
Nasty. Splendidly nasty, I mean. Written in a plainspoken coolness so still that you can hear a neck snap. Fine work, Michael.
Hazar in the above comment uses the perfect word to describe this piece: "seductive." Barry is also write on with "plainspoken coolness." Great work.
Well, this is a cheery way to start the day! Well done, eh?
Hi Michael. Blimey, this one sucked me in. And by para five, my heart was banging and my eyes were but an inch from the screen. Great writing. And what a great final line. Splendid stuff.
The description is great, and I love the way this focuses on the craftsmanship and the boots, until that snap. Whoa. Great last line.
Strong piece. Well written.
Probably the second story I read on here, an instant favorite though. Love the simplicity. Will keep an eye on you :)
Enjoyed this a lot in Negative Suck and glad you added to A-Minor. It's got that tone, hoss. Power, those last six words. Power.
Well played. An appreciation for the craft of all things death can be experienced but that experience can never be shared. The revelation was well done and felt natural.
BTW. Faved.