Poem / Instrument of Mortality

Instrument of mortality

Image Credits

A whisper of fear
Echoed through his ear
He stood in the doorway
Looking through the keyhole

A flick of his wrist and his master key was out
The only tool he could never doubt
He slowly inserted the intricate head
The first three levers released the last two stuck

The whispering became louder
He was running out of time
He wiggled the key from side to side
A loud snap and the lock was released
Inside a mother, her child and her niece

Good evening. He greeted
Two long sounds rang in the air
The mother was left to stair
A screech escaped her lips
He had a strong grip
The life from her lungs he ripped

Two brass cases lay near the entrance
He admired as they smoked
This incidence his furnace stoked
He had to fulfill his oath

Just an Instrument of mortality
Performing tonight's brutality

The checklist He drew from his left side chest pocket
There were four names unchecked
He drew three more lines
Only one was left
Old Mr. Jones He sighed
One cap left inside

---

A short walk through the neighborhood
Before Mr. Jones's door he stood
He knocked three times
Took a short step to the side

May I come in? He asked
Mr. Jones's left arm was in a cast
I'm guessing this is it?
Yes... Are you ready?
I've lived long enough to say yes
But somehow I'm still distressed

Mr. Jones offered a seat
His eyes widened as he accepted defeat
He took out the remaining shell
There's no need I'd like to sound my own knell

He took the firearm
Looked down the rifled barrel
I'm glad I have a choice in this
My own life to take
Finally some rest

---

He took in the scene
Look at the television screen
He saw no reflection
Just an empty vessel

The last for the evening
The families tomorrow would be grieving
More than seven souls that night
He was glad Mr. Jones didn't put up a fight

By Ethan
2017/10/05

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