LOVE2RUN's CalorieKing Blog
The final day
Wednesday, June 17th 2009
The final day.My father mentioned that Gad-awful, up-coming day to me. He spoke with a touch of excitement in his voice, as if...as if...as if it should be a day...a day of celebration! My husband had to hold me tight and console me, as the sobs of doom and despair overtook me. I cried in his arms uncontrollably, while my body heaved and shook with anguish. A day of celebration? As if.
The presence of the Grim Reaper is all around me now. While I cannot yet see the blackness of ...
It's fatal
Tuesday, June 16th 2009
Two days to go.Its a fatal disease. Were all born with it, some die sooner, some die later; regardless, there is no cure, we all die. You can slow down the progression of the disease. Exercise, diet, eating healthy, vitamins, meditation, religion. They all lay claim to holding the secret elixir of the Fountain of Youth. It doesnt matter, the survival rate is 0 percent. No one ever survives. Eventual we will all succumb to the inevitable. Death by old age.
They say that ...
The winds of time
Monday, June 15th 2009
Three days remain.The sweat drips off my brow from my efforts. My fingers are bruised. My nails are broken, cracked and bleeding as I fight to dig into... to hold onto...thin air.
The winds of time whistle around me, picking up speed and whipping my hair around with a frenzy. My destiny awaits; there is no stopping it ~ there is no stopping time. The wind howls with delight at my anguish, as I fight, as I desperately struggle, just to hold onto the 3 days that remain.
...
The mirror
Sunday, June 14th 2009
Four more days. The old, decrypted woman in the mirror gazes back at me with a look of sadness and despair. She knows my days are limited, my time of youth is short. The grains of sand sifting swiftly into the bottom of the hour glass, the clock steadily tick-ticking upon the wall. It will all be over soon, in four more days.Help me...
Saturday, June 13th 2009
Five more days until the cold, clammy fingers of the grave reach up through the damp, dark earth and wrap their slimy, rotting fingers around the slender, sensitive tendons of my youthful neck.