1Sharp pain in my chest, splayed hand vainly trying to stop the blood flow from the fatal wound. Glaring I make the usual claims that this is
_not_ the end, and unlike so many others (unless, of course, their's a squeal) I mean it. Truly, or wouldn't be writing this, now would I?
Ah, darkness, blessed, sweet, honey flavored darkness comes over me in a deathly vail. Anger. Though so weak, as everything now is weak to
at the world, at the boy who's most certainly killed me, for I can feel death hovering over my shoulder, hissing in my ear. But I
mostly feel anger at the whole of the human race, destroyers of my people. This was my, rather noble intention. Noble no matter what anyone
told me. Ah, vengeful genocide and inevitable suicide. This was my plan. They destroyed us, and I destroy them. Perfectly reasonable, don?t
you think?
Enough of that. My mind is dimming, the world is gone now, not even the feel of the hard floor beneath my back can I feel. Not the
triumphant voices of my enemies can I hear. Gone. Just, quietly and simply, gone.