New story idea, short for right now but I'm just putting it out there so I know I need to follow up on it.



When my hero died, I couldn’t believe it. They said he died on a stormy night, alone, it wasn’t a graceful death either; he died in shame. While buying a prostitute he had a heart attack. The whore ran away, not wanting to go to prison again. He lay there, clutching his heart in the city streets. Cars drove by the filth covered ally where he lay. No one saw him. It rained that night, his leather jacket kept him dry even in death. The trash men found him, thinking he was just another drunk they threw water that collected on the garbage pails. They then propped him up on the wall before realizing the he wasn’t breathing anymore. They got a cop, got the garbage, and drove away. His wife was informed and the only thing she could say was, “finally”. No one attended his funeral, mostly because he didn’t have one, nobody liked him enough or respected him enough to have one. They buried his ashes in a ditch somewhere, or at least that’s what they said they did. Upon hearing his death I packed my things and set out looking for him. I couldn’t have thought he would’ve died, not after what we went through and especially not after knowing what he was. Truth was however, no matter how powerful someone can be, everyone dies sometime.