To Serve in Death

𝘛𝘢𝘱.

𝘛𝘢𝘱.

𝘛𝘢𝘱.

All the man could hear was the sound of pouring rain.

𝘛𝘢𝘱.

𝘛𝘢𝘱.

𝘛𝘢𝘱.

There was no beat to follow. No temp to follow. Just the mindless splattering of raindrops falling down onto the dirtied, unkempt floor.

That was what the man thought.

He did not know why he was on the floor, letting the raindrops fall on him.

Was it because of the massive gaping wound on his side? The blood flowing out of him like a stream of water? The fact that he can't even move at all, even when he tried to force himself to move, even the slightest bit?

He remained on the floor, for he cannot do anything.

As the man slowly gave up, he watched-no, he 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 the raindrops; their mindless splatterings breaking the tempo, slow to a crawl.

With his eyes, the man saw as the world in his seemed to be slowly stopping. He saw each raindrop clearly. He saw the pattern in each one. He heard a tempo in each rain.

It was the beginning of a piece. A music piece.

The man felt his eyes closing on his own. Even as he began seeing only darkness, he heard the raindrops fall, creating a masterpiece of music.

He regret he never had the chance to listen to more. He regretted he never had the chance to stop and listen to the rain during his life.

He regretted being ignorant of how beautiful the rain was when he lived his everyday life.

The man regretted so much, but alas he was soon wrapped in the cold embrace of death.

To never hear the rain ever again.

As he fell deeper into the darkness, he had a thought.

'Is this how it feels...to be edgy? Well, it's actually not that bad at all...'

Then, the man's thoughts ceased to exist, the small, flickering flame inside of him blown out by the wind.

...

...

...

𝘛𝘢𝘱.

𝘛𝘢𝘱.

𝘛𝘢𝘱.

The man then heard the sound of rain once more, its raindrops falling onto the floor.

This time, he can hear its music.

And he'll never forget it.