Fiction and Poetry 3am Magazine Contact Links Submission Guidelines
Literature
Arts
Politics
Nonfiction
Music

 
   
 
 

Page 7




I must tell it. I am ashamed of it. I yelled at Kerry - no one can know what I felt. None of you will have had this experience, I pray that none of you shall. I called him things I shall not repeat hear, for I am ashamed of them. He looked at my coldly, and opened his mouth. He started to speak. But stopped, and just shook his head. I grabbed the gun swiftly, and pointed it up - firing.

This was it.

River and I carried the dying Kerry with us, and shoved off. We begin to pick up steam, the current was strong. We let the boat sweep for several miles; we doctored Kerry as best I could. Then we realized the boat's engine would not start. Kerry had sabotaged it. We no not when. In fact...it could have been River, as I'm not willing to implement Kerry in further in this destructive story.

River tried to get me to abandon Kerry; I shall die, I know it, as this river empties, in about three hours or so, into a basin, via a steep waterfall. River jumped out, but I would not. He shall probably die, too, for the jungle surrounds, and he left with no supplies; I certainly wouldn't let him have the gun.

After he left, Kerry told me with his last breaths of life, that he had not shot Archie, but Archie had killed himself. I of course believe him fully. He's my one true friend.

And so we float. Our supplies are meager, and I fear that he shall be gone before I - but I am fortunate to have found this tape player.

And despite it all, I must smile. For even though hell has broken loose, in the end, Kerry and I are traveling to what might be the only real utopia...

Iím sitting, propped against the pilots deck. Kerry lies a few feet in front of me, and is dying. He is completely motionless. His black hair glimmers in the retreating light of the sun. I watch the trees slip by, the tall ones cutting off the glimmering light of that beautiful tropical sunlight every now and again. Even though it shall be my last, I think, somehow, where Iím going I will be able to see them...whenever I like...







   
Previous Page        
Copyright © 2001 3 A.M. PUBLISHING ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
www.3ampublishing.com
Page: 1 2 3 4 5 6
7

home | buzzwords
fiction and poetry | literature | arts | politica | music | nonfiction
| offers | contact | guidelines | advertise | webmasters