Something Hurts
May 09, 2016 - 135 words
Limington's pain started in his soul and stayed right there, right in his soul. Right where he didn't need it, right where God should have lived. It was a desperate sort of soul pain, the kind that grows larger with every splintering moment. He identified this agony when he first developed the capacity for feeling, at the age of zero minutes. He wished he could feel the razor slash of a woman's tender rejection just so he could compare it to something less despondent and useless. This was the kind of pain that kept him in bed until mid-afternoon, sapped green from the trees and deleted his unread emails with a mocking roar that existed in hell and Iraqi prisons. It began as a forlorn mental scream and continued that way unabated until he died!