• As the blood slowly trickled down the man’s back, leaving a thin, shaky trail behind it, the man shuddered. It was not even his own blood that he bled. This was someone else’s. He felt like he had borrowed something precious, and now he was losing it, felt it leaving his body.
    The cobblestones echoed eerily under his feet in the alcoves of Venice, whilst the water remained flat and smooth, like a window into the black night below. A single disturbance shook the water as the man sat at the edge, dripping his red life’s essence into the water. Panting softly, he removed his heavy trench coat, and tossed it into the water, where it floated for a moment before slipping beneath the surface.
    The man knew that as soon as he was dead, he would move on. Not on to the next life, or into a new life. He would move on into somebody else’s life, which was already set in motion, and un-intentionally shove their soul into a deep, dark abyss. He did not know why he couldn’t die completely, why his spirit still clung to this Earth.
    He un-bound the bandage on his wrist, and let it slip off into the water. Underneath the bandage was a green eye, staring up at him. It appeared human, but there was a slight reptilian quality about it. It blinked once, and the pupil wavered.
    “Ah shut up” the man muttered, his heavy Irish accent falling thickly on the quiet night air. “I’ll be done soon, ya p***k” He sighed, and looked up at the sky. No matter who’s life he was living, his love for the starry night sky had always remained, fascinating him all over the world.
    His thoughts were interrupted as shouts echoed from down the canal, and three men, none of whom appeared very friendly, charged towards the man. The man remained where he was seated, looking calmly at these men, his gaze unfaltering, and his body still.
    “Got ‘im!” shouted one of the men triumphantly, seizing the man by the shoulders. “Wherever the ******** you come back, I hope you know we’ll be lookin’ for ya” The eye blinked again, but seemed to go un-noticed.
    The gunshot was loud, and pierced through the air. Blood seeped from the man’s chest. Without enough breath to utter his dying words, which he had rehearsed ever so carefully in his head, all the man could manage was to raise his middle finger in salute as he fell into the canal with a splash.
    As his heart gave its last beat, the man felt light, happy. He was warm and dry, and could not remember ever having been in pain. Smiling softly, he felt as if floating. In a most cliché fashion, he could have sworn he heard the singing of angels.
    Just as he began to feel that maybe he was done with this horrid world, there was an unpleasant yank on his chest, and he felt as if all the weight in the world had landed on his head.
    Falling down, the man closed his eyes and braced for impact. When he opened them, the dead eyes of a woman he knew that he must have loved stared back at him.
    “An interesting turn” the man stated bleakly.