The Sanctity of a Shower

Contributor: Jeremy Jones

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As the painfully burning liquid flows over my skin, I reflect on my life. I see how I ruined my own childhood and blamed others. I see the father I left to rot in a hospital and to die alone. I see the mother I drove away and the brothers I shut out. I see the loving wife I destroyed and drove to adultery. I see the pain I caused all my loved ones. I see all the Marines I fucked over. I see all the lives I took, all the souls I sent to hell, all the futures I erased. I still see their eyes and hear their screams when I sleep. I can see everything I have ever done in my life when this liquid rushes over my flesh, burning me as it goes. I try to think of the good but cannot. The worst part is I see my children. Poor bastards that never deserved to be around a prick like me. My sweet angels will forever be changed by my actions and how I wronged them. For that I cannot allow myself to live. I tear my eyes open to see the flowers all around me. The roses have just come into bloom. The night air is filled with a gentle breeze that is carrying the sweet smell from the roses. With my arms raised above my head, I finish dumping the liquid on my head. I gag at the choking smell from the gasoline. Not even the heaven of these amazing flowers can shut that away. I suddenly regret that the flames will destroy them as well. I pull out the Zippo that has my cherished EGA engraved on it next to the words my lover put on there, “Life would not be worth living, without you in it.” I think it’s only fitting to kill myself with it.

Gunnery Sergeant Zack McNeil slams the lighter open; the sound reminds him of racking a round. Slowly he brings the lighter to life and watches the flames dance to the left and right. Zack thinks one last time of his girls and how he would beat and molested them. Seeing their sad, hollow eyes helps to resolve his will. He drops the lighter and is consumed by flames. You can almost hear the flames laughing as they devour him, eating him alive. His screams are instant and loud. The pain brought on by burning to death does not compare to the anguish in his soul. His screams reflect his torment and agony escaping his body. The torture is almost orgasmic, knowing that his twisted soul is going to feel this for all eternity; knowing that his living form is being destroyed. GySgt McNeil’s body is found the next day still on his knees clutching what looks like a picture frame.

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Prior Sergeant of Marines, never been published. I started writing about 6 months ago, and I was told I should post my stuff. I like to write flash fiction and prose poems, but am trying to broaden my horizon.
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