Death was always unexpected even though it was the only certainty in life. There were the lucky ones who knew how much time they had left, whether it was by a doctor's prediction or the flicker of their own hand. Would they consider themselves lucky, knowing that death was near? Waiting for the end. How could a timely death ever be so lucky?
Atlantis crumbled on his own footing. Pain shot through his body, erupting like volcano lava. He suppressed a groan as darkness began to flood his vision. Clutching his chest, he heard shouts in the background, doors opening, rushed footsteps, then, he witnessed black dots.
"B…"
"Qui..ck!"
"...oss."
The last thing he saw was the ceiling. White light blinded his vision, as memories of his life flashed before his eyes.
- - - - -
"Ungrateful brat!" Chairman Medeor snarled, raising a heavy hand. In a swoop, he smacked his son across the face, sending the tiny boy flailing to the ground.
