The Long Walk

by Richard Bachman

They were buried six feet deep in the darkness.

“We want to die, that’s why we’re doing it. Why else, Garraty? Why else?”

And compose myself a poem. While I go to sleep.”

His eyes, darkly obsidian,

Clouds raced across the sky like crazed privateers across an ebony nightmare sea.

I think about those things, Garraty. Just lately. Like I was old and gettin’ senile.”