I Blink

I blink. Gnawing pain overtakes my left foot. Throwing my footwear aside my big toe is now mangled stump.

I blink. Instinctively, I coil my right hand inwards from the pain. Cauterized, yet still raw to the touch, my knuckle is all that remains of my right index finger.

I blink. Instead of tending to my newly missing ear, I try to get my fingers into position to hold my eyelids open. For a few seconds I have mastered this madness.

A tiny speck of grit wanders into my eye. My eyes well at the implications of this agitation. I blink furiously until the offending speck is gone. And, with each blink I lose another part of myself.

I blink. I crumple at the loss of a foot. Desperately, my remaining fingers flail trying to brace my eyelids open. If only I had a few more fingers left I might have been able too.

I blink. Something internal departs with a malevolent wince. It feels like it was important. At least shock is setting in to help ease me me into the inevitable.

I blink. Danatblair (talk) 10:01, June 18, 2014 (UTC)