As he sat in his bed, the cool breeze of a crisp Winter morning swept over him.
'This has been the best year of my life' Simon Thorn thought to himself.
'Finally, a time of love of life and freedom, with none of the constraints of adulthood,
that usually hold us back and crush our dreams, with the realisation that, time is only
breif on this tiny planet...So live it to the full.'
He plumped up his pillows, then shut his eyes. Not to return to sleep, but to enhance
his senses as to his surroundings.
He had not long woken up, so the thought of wasting anymore time in sleeping, didn't
even cross his mind.
No...He closed his eyes for his mind to drink in the serenity of the moment. What this
new life had given him.
It was twelve months previously that the divorce was finalised.
No more life sapping wife. No more spongeing kids. No more menageie of unwanted
animals. Unwanted by him anyway.
He was now free to do as he pleased. With whomever he pleased. And, since they had
seperated, he had pleased many.
It had been a lengthy, drawn out divorce. Her trying her utmost to make it as miserable
and painfull as she possibly could.
The solicitor that was regularly screwing him for his money, was also screwing his wife
for his pleasure.
Ethics were obviously not his strong point.
But, as long as it kept her happily distracted, he could honestly see no problem with it.
Suffice as to say, her new love life, facilitated his new love for life. Something that he'd
never had before.
Things had never looked rosier.
So. Here he lay. A new day having dawned, and possibilities, endless.
Or, so you would think.
In reality, the possibilities are slim. And the future (what's left of it) is bleak.
For. The bed that he languishes in, is his death-bed.
Having found out about the terminal disease, three months ago, he wept for the first
time since his childhood.
In the past, nothing could bring him to tears.
The birth of his children.
The death of loved ones. Good and bad.
Definitely not his divorce.
Except, his own mortality.
For the first time, in a life ruined by others, he felt of some worth. The mirror was his
It is indeed, a cruel world.
His only consolation to his imminent passing, was...
The quilt that covered his frail body, was filled with shredded paper, for warmth.
Not the warmth brought on through the tog density. But the warmth brought on by
Knowing that, the paper filling the duvet, was all the money he had accumulated over
the many years of service, to a world that never cared.
The money they all so desperately fought for.
A rasping cough escaped him, as he took the last draw on his final cigarette.
As his dying breath left him, his final act as a free man, was one of defiance.
The sudden inferno, as the ash descended onto the heavy bed covering, signalled an
end to a life well won.