There are so many different ways to die.

To me however, they can be categorized into three types.

First, the fast and sudden death. The kind that hits you out of nowhere, tripping you by the ankles and slamming you against the ground. It pulls you out from under your feet, leaving you too shocked to fully comprehend the weight of how hard you’ve been hit.

It was a freak accident that took her away. A ball going just the right speed, with our little girl on the swing at just the right peak. 

My outstretched hands were inches away from her cracked skull on the park pavement. Just a millisecond too late. 

Second come the slow deaths. The kind everyone secretly dreads from the bottom of their hearts. The one that rips you apart day by day, and you can only watch helplessly as they wither away. 

That’s how my wife went, a 9 month long battle with stage 4 kidney cancer. Those 9 months of heartache felt like the equivalent of the 30 years we’d been together. 

And then there are the worst kinds of deaths, the sudden slow death. The double whammy, the two-for-two, and the one no one is ever truly prepared to accept. 

We’ve all seen reports like it. People slowly burning to a crisp, in a house fire caused by a careless neighbor, unable to be reached by firefighters because the fire was just a little bit too hot to get near. People wasting away for weeks in a too-small cave, all because they missed their footing by a millimeter. People holding their breaths in anxiety as the man with a gun shoots his way down the hallway, all because they just happened to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

You get the idea.

The frustration of knowing that their death was caused by something so unpredictable, and the anger of knowing that they didn’t even get the privilege of a swift passing, makes the fact that they’re gone all the more unacceptable. 

Sadly, it’s a reality that those unfortunate among us have to face.

And a fate I have to accept as I plummet down from the 44th floor of my office building.

These are my final thoughts as I make my descent. About how unfair death is to take people so soon. About how unfair I am to them, for being able to choose how I go while they had no choice in the matter.

And that the only way to truly honor their deaths is to keep living, and embrace death when he finally comes. 

But it is too late, for I am a selfish man, cheating death of its rules.

I'm lucky

A new day, a new start

So many things to be done

What clothes shall I wear?

Hmm, this one has a tear.

This one’s worn out

This one is my brother’s.

This one is my other brother’s.

And this one barely fits.

Oh well, it’s not as if old clothes can kill!

Today’s just a day at work

Nothing much to do but...work

Ack, the line is too long for me to wait.

And i shall be late.

Hmm, I’ll just have to run to work again.

Sorry, Excuse me.

Run..run...run...

My boss is like a gun,

Whenever he’s mad he starts to shout

As loud as a gun, making your ears bleed out.

*BEEP*

Oh sorry my bad, didn’t see you there.

Sorry, I apologize, a bit late for work.

*SCREECH*

Oh what a day...

I guess I'm fortunate

Guess that girl is having a worse day than me…

Now my boss decreased my day’s wage.

But that's because anger grows along with age.

Oh well, tomorrow ill wake up earlier.

During the time when the stars shine ever brighter!

Here we go

Same as before, just act all sad and wimpy.

Wheres my cup? Oh, found it.

Which spot will i pick today?

In the heart of the city?

At the sidewalk to sit?

Or by the touristy bay?

…

Anywhere’s fine, as long as i do my Job.

This is cozy

My shift is over, and it's already high noon.

You know what that means…

Breakfast time!!!

Lets see, I have enough for some biscuits.

But, my boss is gonna get a bigger percent today.

So ill just hold off the drinks for now.

*Munch munch*

Let’s relax for a while before my shift ends.

Let’s lie down on this flattened box

Eeeck, It’s blazing hot!

But let me just shut my eyes for a bit.

*Zzzz*

*CLINK!*

So far so good!

Wha-what?

Oh...Thank you very much miss!

Lets see, this seems enough

Tomorrow's a another...

This one I'll give to dear father

This one for mother

This one for grandmothers medicines

This ones enough for brothers new pencil

And this one is enough for tonight's dinner

Now that just leaves me…

Not enough for the fare home…

Huh…

Oh well, I guess I'll sleep here again

Theres nothing like the cold open air

To give you a natural cool breeze

With cars beeping in the distance

And street lights, to keep you half awake

Just in case…

Hahaha…

Sighs

          It is dinner time once again.

        Seated at the long, narrow table are me, my sister, and my eldest brother. On either side of the table are my mother and father.

        Seven chimes. The grand clock looming over the dining table tells us when it is time to eat. When the 7 chimes are up, we must all be in our proper seats.

        No one has ever been seated after the 7 chimes.

        It is always quiet at the dinner table. For a common household, it is imperative that the family exchanges conversation to establish a bond between its members. In a situation where members of the family are stuck with each other for a period of time, unable to leave, silence becomes a deterrent, unbearable to have within the vicinity. Total silence at the dinner table usually indicates that a family’s condition is uneasy, after all who could get in the mood to talk when the family isn’t getting along well?

        However in this household, silence is revered. It is what ties our family together. Silence at the dinner table is comfortable, enjoyable even. I’m sure everyone here at the table thinks so, too.

        The meals in our house are impeccable, cooked by the finest chefs you wouldn’t be able to find even in the highest class restaurant. After the meal was finished, the next course would be served, and so on and so forth. Empty plates would be taken in the blink of an eye, as quick as the dishes were served. As dinner is ongoing, no one is allowed to leave nor stand up. It is considered incredibly rude. One time, my sister nearly left her restraints, and I nearly broke the silence with my anger. Luckily, I was able to pull her back just in time with the promise of dessert. Tonight, it was strawberry panna cotta, topped with a garnish of caramel sauce.

        Eight chimes on the grand clock indicate it’s time to go. Once again, before the 8 chimes are up, everyone must leave the dining room. No one’s ever stayed after the 8 chimes to find out what happens.

        This is dinner time at our household. It’s a relaxing experience, yet it seems mother and father are still not satisfied. After the meal is over, from their confines, they beg me to let them go. They try to convince me they’re not my mother and father, and I laugh at their silliness. They really do love to play tricks. It’s like this every night, no wonder they’re exhausted beyond belief. Behind them, brother looks at me with livid eyes, while sister’s pupils are filled with fear. I walk over to her and smile, my dear sister always looks wonderful. She shakes in delight as I kiss her forehead, my hands still stained red from dessert, and tell her it’ll be alright.

        After all, we’re a family aren’t we?

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Wouldn't you say the same of fear?

I was relaxing on my couch after a long day of work, idly paying attention to what was on the nightly news.

The reporter, prim and proper onscreen, started to deliver the headline news. Something about a burglar named Oryu Fulta on the loose. He was a dangerous man, stealing from his victims with terrifying, almost inhuman-like precision. The latest victim had been a mailman on duty just the other night and with the careless actions of the impulsive burglar, the police were already hot on his trail.

Looking at the information on his whereabouts, I noticed they stated he was in the vicinity. I sighed heavily. Looks like I'd have to install more locks on my doors and windows, anywhere where it looked like the guy could get in. The police were already onto the killer, so I shouldn't have to be too worried for long.

If it wasn't obvious enough, my biggest fault was my intensive paranoia, a fear that, as shallow as it was, my precious material belongings-- which were the only objects that kept me company in this lonely world--would be snatched away from me in an instant. The not so great outdoors had plenty of that to offer. So in the end, the ultimate solution I came up with was to lock myself in my room, only going out when absolutely necessary. It would be a year tomorrow since I'd started this lifestyle, and to be frank I was enjoying it very much. Luckily my work as a programmer only required me to be on the internet as much as possible, which wasn't hard for me to do at all. And friends you ask? Not a single one.

So you see, the cat burglar situation was a dire one.

All the while I'd been thinking, the robber’s name stayed fresh in my mind. Oryu Fulta...a very uncommon name for people around these parts. In my head, however, the name had a familiarity that I couldn't place.

I was shaken from my thoughts by the sound of muffled shuffling from upstairs. A rat? No, it couldn't be. With the amount of cleaning I did daily you could practically eat from the floor. The shuffling started to grow louder.

I started to panic, my fight or flight instincts kicking in. Immediately I ran to check my locks, barricading the doors and blocking the windows for extra protection. There's no way that man was getting in. I was completely locked in my own house, unable to get out nor anyone unable to get in.

Despite my actions, the shuffling did not cease. Instead, it began to get louder. It was coming from my upstairs bedroom. Shaking in fear, some strange urge pulled me to the sound, as much as I knew it was probably the least safe route I could take, it was the one that would give me the most reassurance.

All the while, facts from the report echoed in my head.

Mailman...in the vicinity... terrifying, almost inhuman precision... Oryu Fulta.

I approached the room one step at a time, cautiously bracing myself for the worst. My heart was racing in my chest, every footstep feeling like my last. Mentally preparing myself by the door, I quickly flung the door open.

Silence.

I huffed in pure relief. I'd been working myself up for nothing, my paranoia would be the death of me. Chuckling at my stupidity, I turned to leave the room.

And then that's when I saw the watch on the floor.

It was the same, expensive one I’d seen the last night I had my mail delivered to me.

I knelt down on one knee, catching a glimpse of under the bed, seeing a locked wooden chest. I quickly grabbed my heavy keyholder, desperately trying each key until finally, one of them clicked. A small, worn out key I’d never used before until now.

My entire body suddenly felt like jelly. No. That was absolutely impossible. It couldn't be.

Oryu Fulta...Oryu Fulta...Your fault.

I stared blankly ahead as I heard the police sirens start to ring throughout the deadly silence, and I knew I'd be unable to escape, resigning myself to my fate.