I wrote this when during a random discussion about “dying doing what you love the most” on a WhatsApp group, a friend asked me how do you die writing?
Well, challenge accepted! It is a bit creepy to visualise your own death, but here goes! 😛
The pen felt a bit heavy as he wrote away into the night. The only sound was the pen scribbling away on the paper and the ticking sound of the clock nearby. The orange light shone on his waning white hair as he frowned furiously in thought. He removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes and like always enjoyed the relaxing effect it had. He wouldn’t know what it would mean, of course, when a sharp pain in the chest stabbed him suddenly. The calm night was suddenly a hectic frenzy. Falling off his chair, he doubled over on the floor. His knees gave away as he held on to the desk to stand up and fell to the floor once more. He clutched his pen once more as he breathed his last. The night was calm again. Apart from the clock, still ticking away mercilessly.