Icarus’ Gold

I wanted to fly high, close to the sun. The greed of golden desires made me lust after them so. I would believe in hindsight that listening to this voice that told me to reach for the heavens of the Earth was stupid and I was blinded by my greed because I am, in fact, stupid and greedy. As I lay here on the cold concrete floor of the bank’s vault, shotgun in hand, I could only think of how stupid this greed has blinded me. 

Next to me was a green duffle that held the last gold that was located on the West coast of the States. The beautiful gold was mixing with dark blood I gave off. I was going to die soon. The wound was from a hand held pistol that was standard issue to the police force; I didn’t know the make. 

Instead of slowly dying in that pool of blood, I used every ounce of will power I had to try and get up. The officer who shot me wasn’t to keen for my retaliation. He put a bullet in my leg. I tried again. Another bullet. Again I tried. Another bullet to my other leg. Again. Another. Again. Another. Again. Another.

This kept going until he decided to just end it right out. He was going to kill me with a bullet to the brain. In that final moment of seeing my death signed by metal I cursed the men who left me here to die as they ran with their bags of greed and desires. I felt him squeeze the gun. Everything went dark in my world. I knew one of the bank teller’s, a female who hadn’t the stomach for violence, would probably start to scream after I died.

Well…if I had died.

One Response to “Icarus’ Gold”
  1. Aw, this was a very nice post. In thought I want to put in writing like this moreover – taking time and actual effort to make an excellent article… however what can I say… I procrastinate alot and in no way seem to get something done.

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