Bleed

The light drained out of the ends of her fingers. Alice lay motionless.  Her breathing had been shallow for at least an hour and her family had begun to arrive, knowing that this was the end.  It was a painful reunion, the first in ten years.  The previous reunion had been for a similar reason and was just as uncomfortable.

Ed, her husband, was a hard working but equally hard drinking construction worker.  One week before his retirement date, he had fallen from a third story construction site, to only demise within the week.  Alice looked sad, but never shed a tear.  The same was true for the children, now all grown with problems of their own.

Now it was Alice's turn.  Old, shriveled, bitter and sad, her life had been one tragedy after the next.  Abused by her own father, only to marry an equally abusive husband, Alice kept her passion bottled up, occasionally releasing it on her own children, but not often.

The room was cool, as Alice liked it.  Her three children had eventually arrived, even Charlie from Philadelphia.  They sat in the room, quiet, pensive but avoiding eye contact.  The years of anger and bitterness had taken its toll and it was situations like that brought them together and this alone.  

Alive could hear them, shifting uncomfortably in their seats, occasionally clearing their throats and Thomas, humming a nameless tune.  Alice could hear them, but she could not speak, she could not move.  So she was understandably surprised when two men, well-dressed and obviously cultured entered the room, unannounced and silent.  Maybe it was her eyes or the painkillers but the men seemed emit a gentle white glow.  Her children had no indication of recognition.  The two men, handsome, well-built and sure-footed came to her bedside, one on each side and held her hands.  She looked upon them, feeling somewhat embarrassed but also giddy.  For what seemed an eternity, neither spoke but simply looked upon her tired face, a look of love.  They then turned and walked back to the door, a look of sadness came upon them, their hands now empty.  Alice rose from the bed, no longer a tired, broken shell but young again, no more than 25.  They turned and looked at her, a glimmer of hope, but Alice turned her back to them.  She looked back upon her now silent, motionless body upon the hospital bed and noticed the last drop of light drip from her right ring finger, a golden pool on the floor beneath.  Alice stepped into the pool and at once became liquid, knowing this to be herself.

A small, golden-colored pool dropped down through the small cracks in the rough wooden floor hidden beneath the cheap linoleum.  The golden liquid was absorbed by nothing but simply slid past all, only to join an abundance of other liquids of a variety of colors.  The liquids eventually formed into a river flowing south and turning red. 
          And Alice never saw the throne.