Deathbed Confession

I am  running behind this week.  I was going to do a long post talking about last weeks prompt and announcing this weeks prompt and then things went pear shaped. Every time I thought that I had several minutes and the inspiration was with me, it was quickly swindled away by the distractions of the internet  or responsibilities.  

This weeks prompt is "write from the point of view of a character on his or her deathbed."  In my head it translated to "Deathbed Confession" and my brain started to spring into action on what horrible ailments a person could die from and if a person really knows when they are on their deathbed. I think I have myself straightened out and that I came up with something that does not have a person dying from eating expired Jello.  ( I spent some time cleaning out my grandmothers cupboard and trying to figure out the last time Jello was $0.33 a box. The possibility that Jello could kill has weighed heavily on my mind this week. I am not obsessed with Jello.)  It took a little while, but I finally came up with something. If you feel so inclined, below is my "Deathbed Confession."

Juliet

My gaze looks unseeing to the audience.  I was told it was the biggest crowd of the year. The last show often is, since family and friends make an effort to be there.  Something about it better to go out with a bang than a gasp. 

The heat of the lights are making me melt and I wouldn't be surprised if my make up is beginning to slide off of my  face.  The body next to me lies still and unmoving, but I can feel the heat radiating through my clothes.  A clattering jostling noise happens just behind me. It sounds like metal armor hitting a stone floor. 

Taking a breathe, I say the next line, knowing only two more come after it and then it is all over for me.  It has been a good run, though eventually the curtain must fall.  My time is up.

Yea, noise? Then I’ll be brief. O happy dagger,

I pick up the crooked dagger that is next to the body I am lying against and examine it.  I extend my arm out dramatically and say my next line.

This is thy sheath;

I bring my arm quickly to my chest and feel the blade slip into my bosom.  Blood seeping from the wound spreads.   With my last breathe, I gasp out my  last line.

there rust, and let me die.

I close my eyes as the rest of the world moves one. My curtain has fallen.