Macabre

Bob didn’t expect the solid thud. He wasn’t sure if he jerked or not. The gravity of the day cleared. His mind became free of entanglements. No more threads of shame, regret, or desires going in all directions. Time slowed to a near stop. The thud’s vibration resonated in his ears. The lowest note plucked on an orchestra bass, left to resonate. Thinking, is this a beginning, or an end?

Bob became instantly sober. The sensation of floating or falling made him feel nauseous. Maybe I am drunker than I thought. His visual scene transformed. Moving quickly to the right. Time skipped another step while the view changed. Bob blinked his eyes and felt a need to vomit. Equally vital is a need to take a breath. The blurred vision of people shouting, “One!” Each person holding a beer can, red plastic cup, darts, pool cues, or a combination of any two above their head.

Yeah, Bob remembered the Dragon’s Den. This podunk town had only one bar, which is where he was. The proprietor always wanted an authentic English pub. The humor of an English pub in the middle of nowhere made Bob smile. He felt his ears pulling up. Man, I am way too drunk! I need to lie down. Bob thought to himself, or did he say it out loud? Bob’s mind was having difficulty staying focused as he blinked again. He heard the crowd say, “Two!”

The Dragon’s Den. What the hell is going on? Why does everyone look so strange and out of focus? The faces! All the faces, moving in and out of focus, were so weird. Some people are laughing, or are they screaming? The bass’s low note continued to drone in his ears. No other sound, just the low vibrating pitch. Bob saw some people looking nervous or ill? A young woman standing close to him was heaving. Her eyes were half closed, a pale liquid coming from her nostrils. Bob knew that look. From the Emergency Medical Technician experience, he knew she was about to vomit. What is going on?

Bob felt thirsty and needed to puke at the same time. He tried to ask for a drink but couldn’t verbalize the words. Next, the light in the room brightened. He could see green and yellow hues, similar to an old black and white movie. Only not. Yellow and green colors took over his visual pallet. Bob felt as if he was flying. Rising above the people gathered around him. Trying to adjust his vision, Bob blinked. The mob roared, “Three!” Their word barely passed from Bob’s ears to his brain. The bass note and people’s yelling volume diminished except for the last note created by a young lady violently vomiting.

Bob could only see white. Not a light, just the white. I hope she is okay. Bob thought questionably, Maybe I should h.. hel.. ppp..

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The Dragon's Den patrons cheered, "Three!"

Dave heard the young woman's regurgitating sounds as her stomach rebelled. Vomit splatted the ground, splashing onto his boots. He saw her excrement mixing with bright red blood and a glossy oil liquid threading a path atop the floor. Then silence.

A running drip broke the silence. Dave looked at his left hand, held as high as his arm could stretch. The dripping stream of red blood and oily liquid ran down his arm. The substance tickled his armpit and moved down his side. Then, followed gravity down his waist to the growing pool on the floor.

Dave's fingers entangled in Bob's coarse black hair. He shouted, "The stupid bastard was right! Three blinks!" Dave looked over his shoulder at the guillotine near the wall like a gym's weight bench. A headless corpse twitched, causing a goose skin chill down Dave's spine. The lifeless arm drooped towards the bench's leg. Who would have thought the damn thing still worked? Who would have thought you could blink three times before you die? Bob!