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Cherub's Rest
In the middle of nowhere, on the Island of Somewhere Pt. 2
Standing on the edge of a cliff can really make someone think. You think about where you've been, but what's really on your mind is if you're going to fall or not. The distance of he fall, how long it will take before you hit the bottom, and if you would hear your brain being crushed and squished against the back of your skull before you die.

Here I am, at the very edge of existence at the prime of my life. But what's on my mind isn't the fall, but the gun pointed at the back of my head. I never thought I'd make it this far without being caught. But it's pretty funny how lucky I've been.

The hairs on the back of my head stand up. The gun is just far enough away that I can almost feel it. In a way it's ironic; I fell coming here, and I'd fall leaving here. They said I was some sort of angel. The Cherub, they called me, after this very peak in the canyon. I really don't want to die.

The wind's picked up. I've never enjoyed it as much as I do now, in the final seconds of my life. I can hear a bird in the sky, but the sun is too bright and hot to look up to see where it is. The wind died again, it's too still now. The click of the gun's hammer sounded like a broken clock cog, a fitting sound for death. I take in a breath and close my eyes. This is it.

BANG!

But this is not where the story begins....





Cherubs Rest
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Cherubs Rest
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