Ficlets

Never Alone

The last time George was alone, he was two years old. The babysitter was more interested in her boyfriend than watching him, and he fell in the pool. He stopped breathing for several minutes.

That’s when it started, flashes at the corner of his eyes, the echo of footsteps behind his when he was alone.

At sixteen, George was hit by a car. He stared at the sky, waiting for his vision to clear, and thought he saw the shadow of a man bending over him. But he blinked and was alone. The driver hadn’t even bothered to stop. At twenty one, a mugging left him with a bullet lodged in his chest, too close to his heart to dare operate. He heard faint laughter from nearby, though the shooter had gone.

And so it went. Disaster struck, again and again, though never quite fatal. And with each close call, Death crept closer, until they walked together.

People died around him. Death struck, cold and dispassionate. George walked with him, and wondered when it would be his turn to finally face that dark gaze.

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