short fiction
Dwyane on the Dance Floor
A wounded man meets the end of a long game of violence with one final, bitter laugh.
Dwyane is still holding on to his laugh on the dancefloor. Although he’s feeling a bit woozy, He’s trying to process the event that just happened.
“Mr. Reinhardt sends his regards” Dwyane heard a faint voice in his left ear.
Dwyane could feel his shirt getting dampened by the sweat and something else. There was no pain, just a little bit of pressure.
“Why?” Dwyane asked.
He didn’t get any reply. As he was falling to the ground, Dwyane saw the shocking faces of those who were dancing around him. His decisions took him to the place he is at today.
In the corner of his eye, Dwyane saw a hooded figure walking away with a knife-like object drenched with his blood.
“Ah, Good for him. He’s gonna get rewarded.” Dwyane chuckled as he closed his eyes. “Maybe it’s not that bad, I can finally stop this game of cat and mouse.” he thought as he succumbed to eternal slumber.