I saw the man long before the trigger was pulled; I saw the unkept hair and the wild eyes, the uneven stubble and I sensed that if I had tried hard enough, I could probably smell the alcohol and blatant lack of hygiene. Yet I could not hear anything. The man was vigorously waving the weapon and chaos was spreading as people feared for their lives. Yet to me, it had become eerily silent. Clearly this was the effect of having just watched the artist, damn Hollywood.
Nevertheless, as I tried to channel all my energy into processing sound, I began to hear the sound of silence. The sound of nothing and it was overwhelmingly loud. I was blinded and thrown off balance by the echoes of nothing, the walls began to close in and the air seemed to seep out of me, the silence was deafening. My eyes narrowed into slits, my hands protected my ears and I balled up trying to rescue myself. I opened my mouth and screamed for help, no sound. Yet still the silence got louder. Still wave after wave of nothing struck me vehemently, unyielding, ruthless.
Then I moved my hand to my front pocket to get my mobile phone and I felt it. Sticky fluid was clinging to my shirt, a reddish-maroon colour. I laid back and stopped resisting.
So this is what dying felt like, hollywood clearly got it wrong. There’s no drama, no flashing lights, no last words or prayers, there is just an unfathomable silence that had come to take me away. I closed my eyes and that was it.
It was so still, even the silence ceased to exist.