This piece is dedicated to Janet "Jackson" who inspired me to write this piece of fiction. May her bravery inspire us all.
IN THE ALLEY OF DEATH
There was a girl named Jackson
Weird, but Jackson was her name
She has no friends and family
whom she can call her own.
She writes rhythm and blues.
We first met at "Zax Bar Blues"
owned by a certain Mr. Mark,
whose last name I forgot.
She may not be the sharpest
but she's kinda funky and cool
Sort of a smart aleck -- at least
that's how she esteemed her self.
On her way home one day,
she found an ad plastered on a wall.
She got overly excited
so she immediately gave it a call.
It was a game of challenge
which the high and mighty schemed.
It worked exactly as planned
Jackson was victim number one
Trusting, naive and unsuspecting,
Jackson stepped up to the game,
her virtual self she presented
to this bout she has just accepted.
She had been fairly warned
but still she opted to proceed.
The poor girl Jackson is doomed!
Oh well.. Didn't she ask for it?
She invited trouble to herself.
Now she's caught up in a trap.
Ventured into unchartered territories
she thought she knew by heart.
Now she stands in the dark alley
in the nightmare she created herself.
Brainy beasts she has to confront,
totally wrecked her to bits.
Flesh torn, barely clings to her bones
Jackson got utterly deconstructed.
By the unforeseen lethal attacks,
she was completely annihilated
Her jugular vein faintly throbbed
as it spurts the last drop
while consciousness leaves her
wallowing in her own blood.
In the cold dark alley of death,
Jackson feared no trouble.
She gathered herself back, and
from her bad dream she woke up.
Copyright © 2021 Don Luman-ag
All rights reserved.
15.07.2021
