Laughing Until You Die

A morbid, mob inspired, story.

            You run as fast as your feet can carry you, creating a dull pounding sound against the hard, wet, pavement. Dirty water splashes up onto your polished leather shoes and your dry-cleaned suit as you turn down the corners and alleys in the depths of the city. You know these alleys well, through a lifetime of creeping around them you have the dark corridors nearly memorized. But you know none of this is going to help you. You are not as nimble as you used to be. Your stamina has dwindled with age and activity, and your pursuer is young and fit. They are on your tail, getting closer and closer with each step you take. You turn another corner and soon realize that you have made a fatal mistake. But it's too late. Your assailant stops running, also noting your fault in judgment. There is no escaping now, you are cornered. You slowly back up against the cold concrete that lines this particular alleyway until you are just barely touching its chilling surface. The dark figure advances toward you quickly, a flash of metal raised high above their head. You knew that this would come eventually, that soon your end would arrive, and your reign would fall short, the position in which you held given to whoever could claim it the fastest. As the hand of your attacker begins its descent, you smile, thinking of the terror and the mayhem that you have caused in this worthless city over the course of your lifetime. You will be remembered, you will live on in the hearts of many for countless years to come. Though your life would now end, in the freak accident that you found yourself alone and barely armed, your memory would live on. As the cold metal of the blade stings into your flesh, ripping you open with ease, you begin to laugh. A dark chortling laughter that with each heave of your stomach sucks more life out of your twisted soul. Your attacker backs away, unsure of what to do as you fall to the ground, laughing until you die.