(no subject)
he lived in a small house on st. kitts, an island in the carribean. he was attending a school for animal medicine there. it wasn't approved by the AVMA, but it was his chance at achieving what he so thought he wanted to be. the program involved trips out around the 33 square mi divet of land in the deep blues and greens of the water. they would castrate donkeys and spay cats. all of their classroom work was consolidated into a sprint rather than the state side marathon. he was working hard. sometimes forgot why, but there were moments when he was so sure.
he met a woman at a local cantina one night. she was originally from haiti and her french charmed them both. she had travelled many places since leaving home after her brother was abducted when she was 16. her tales had him leaning close to her, staring at her mouth and her teeth to silently urge the words forth. he was quickly infatuated, possibly in love. they started to see a lot of each other.
almost finished with the island side of his education, he prepared to leave for a school in the u.s. for his final year of clinical work before graduation. he and she made plans; mostly for where they would go when he was done. and they were certain at that time that wherever they did go, it would of course be together. neither had feigned obsession with monogamy before, but this didn't feel restrictive.
several weeks before he left, he slept fitfully on a particularly humid night. his sheets stucks to his body, irritating him in his dreams. there was a sound that seemed to rouse something deep in his dreamscape, tamping into terror he had not felt for years. his eyes first opened lazilly, then sprung wider when the sound persisted. even through the stratified storm of the waking mind, something drummed his heart to beat faster.
and the sound was clearly human. matched in minutes with two tall figures pulling him from his bed, onto his knees on the floor. standing behind him. "don't turn around" shaking. pissing himself. crying with his mouth silent and wide. eyes shut tight with searing tears pushing aside the sweat of his sleep.
a shot in his back.
he buckles forward, shocked and still wanting to live.
one stands over him and points the nozzle to his head. thunder
he blanks, certain that he will die.
they leave. of course he must be dead. but the breath still comes to him though mixed with strings of blood that enter his trachea and lungs and make him cough. this forces greater sensation and pain from his back.
he knows he can't stay. no, he doesn't know this. he just can't think of anything to do but get up, out, stumble to the chick nextdoor. she takes him to the hospital.
"thay shot me, they shot me, they shot me" over and over as they lay him on a perfect white bed behind cinderblock walls and push saline into his veins. but they don't have enough blood for a transfusion, and he dies.
police assume break in and routine homicide. his lover thinks of her irrate ex husband and tries to call him. she must know he didn't have anything to do with this. but she finds he doesn't answer and soon hears he hasn't been heard from since the day following the shooting.
i bring this up because i was told this story by one of my classmates. a close friend of his. it happened a few months ago.
he met a woman at a local cantina one night. she was originally from haiti and her french charmed them both. she had travelled many places since leaving home after her brother was abducted when she was 16. her tales had him leaning close to her, staring at her mouth and her teeth to silently urge the words forth. he was quickly infatuated, possibly in love. they started to see a lot of each other.
almost finished with the island side of his education, he prepared to leave for a school in the u.s. for his final year of clinical work before graduation. he and she made plans; mostly for where they would go when he was done. and they were certain at that time that wherever they did go, it would of course be together. neither had feigned obsession with monogamy before, but this didn't feel restrictive.
several weeks before he left, he slept fitfully on a particularly humid night. his sheets stucks to his body, irritating him in his dreams. there was a sound that seemed to rouse something deep in his dreamscape, tamping into terror he had not felt for years. his eyes first opened lazilly, then sprung wider when the sound persisted. even through the stratified storm of the waking mind, something drummed his heart to beat faster.
and the sound was clearly human. matched in minutes with two tall figures pulling him from his bed, onto his knees on the floor. standing behind him. "don't turn around" shaking. pissing himself. crying with his mouth silent and wide. eyes shut tight with searing tears pushing aside the sweat of his sleep.
a shot in his back.
he buckles forward, shocked and still wanting to live.
one stands over him and points the nozzle to his head. thunder
he blanks, certain that he will die.
they leave. of course he must be dead. but the breath still comes to him though mixed with strings of blood that enter his trachea and lungs and make him cough. this forces greater sensation and pain from his back.
he knows he can't stay. no, he doesn't know this. he just can't think of anything to do but get up, out, stumble to the chick nextdoor. she takes him to the hospital.
"thay shot me, they shot me, they shot me" over and over as they lay him on a perfect white bed behind cinderblock walls and push saline into his veins. but they don't have enough blood for a transfusion, and he dies.
police assume break in and routine homicide. his lover thinks of her irrate ex husband and tries to call him. she must know he didn't have anything to do with this. but she finds he doesn't answer and soon hears he hasn't been heard from since the day following the shooting.
i bring this up because i was told this story by one of my classmates. a close friend of his. it happened a few months ago.