INSPIRATION

Part 5

       He had to admit, his situation was ironic. As well as writing songs, in his spare time he would write stories. Nothing he would ever show anyone, but he knew they existed. His speciality was death. Murder. Too bad he wouldn't be around to write about his own. His thoughts kept him occupied as it left the cold barrel of the gun against his head, the steel bullet completely piercing the overly pale flesh of his head, and proceeding until it was stopped by a large, impenetrable sheet behind him. His blood stained the floor as his lifeless body crashed after it.

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A/N

Very dark I know.

Oh well here's a long one for my completely non existent readers!