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Horror Fiction
Bad Angel
Salvage Sans Salvation
Chapter 1 Page 9
Bad Angel
Salvage Sans Salvation
Chapter 1 Page 9
Now Little Ashley Austin's horrified mask lingered within Christen's final considerations. This, he knew, was the sum total of his value to the world. She would be his final reckoning, and so Christen Bass passed from life into death, his column in the red; his number a massive loss; his meager profit an absolute write-off.
"Flat-line," intoned someone who seemed to care.
For a time unknown to him, Christen Bass wandered the mysterious lands of death on a secret journey of silence and darkness that was an utter lack of sensation, thought, and consciousness. His mind, his soul, his SELF, seemed a switch, thrown to 'OFF'. He, Christen Bass, was rendered nothing. He saw no bright light, no tunnel, no beloved relatives waiting in the Big Beyond to guide him to heaven or to hell. He saw nothing, since he was nothing.
Sometime later, after his body cooled considerably and his heart all but forgot how to beat, the worst possible thing happened. They revived him!
His body seized with a jolt, and he felt his abdomen strain to lift his feet and head from the bloody operating table. Well restrained, his broken limbs resisted. Christen screamed wretchedly with agony, but the tubes, wires and cameras that choked his throat suffocated the sound.
"Flat-line," intoned someone who seemed to care.
For a time unknown to him, Christen Bass wandered the mysterious lands of death on a secret journey of silence and darkness that was an utter lack of sensation, thought, and consciousness. His mind, his soul, his SELF, seemed a switch, thrown to 'OFF'. He, Christen Bass, was rendered nothing. He saw no bright light, no tunnel, no beloved relatives waiting in the Big Beyond to guide him to heaven or to hell. He saw nothing, since he was nothing.
Sometime later, after his body cooled considerably and his heart all but forgot how to beat, the worst possible thing happened. They revived him!
His body seized with a jolt, and he felt his abdomen strain to lift his feet and head from the bloody operating table. Well restrained, his broken limbs resisted. Christen screamed wretchedly with agony, but the tubes, wires and cameras that choked his throat suffocated the sound.
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