The Summer I Died

by Ryan C. Thomas

“This stinks like a hobo’s asshole.

Hahhaa

“I know you,” Lightning Bolt Head said. “You’re that guy who got run over by his daddy. What do they call you, Mouth or something?”

Two bodies exploded out of the door, running full speed directly toward us. One was a woman, bound, gagged, covered in blood. The other was a thin shirtless man waving a hand ax in one fist and a saw in the other.

SHIT

Out of nowhere, one of the rottweilers clamped down on my leg and sank his fangs into my flesh, piercing my shinbone.

Yoooo

Like a jack in the box, the woman sprang upright in front of me and I fell down screaming nothingness. She had one hand on the ax and was trying to pull it out of her skull but it was stuck fast.

Holly shit

We haven’t even started having fun with you yet.”

UH

A tiny wooden table sat next to that with some tools—pliers, box cutters, nails, hammers, wrenches, screwdrivers, etcetera—hanging on the pegboard above it.

Jesus

Something started to smell like smoked ham and together we realized that, against the stove, the woman was starting to burn.

I peed a little

Skinny Man took the arm and licked the blood flowing from the hacked shoulder. It dribbled down his chin and he laughed like a goblin. He rushed at me and grabbed my face and kissed me, smearing blood all over my mouth.

AAAAAHHHHH

Jeez

if we go to Heaven, I don’t know, I hope there’re a lot of naked women waiting for us.”

Hahhaaha

Life really is amazing, and when you’re about to lose it, you finally notice that you never really took it in before. And you realize the sheer magnitude of what it involves, from your first kiss to your hundredth slice of pizza. I guess that’s why those tears drifted down my cheeks.