So he got run over by a car. Thump! End of story? She was beheaded by a news chopper. Finis........... What is this death? ......... When your heart stops, a sentient sigularity of infinite mass, once worshiped as a Babylonian deity, now mistakenly known by astrophysicists as a black hole, and known to his friends as Manny,sucks all the space out of the molecules in your chest. Cellular membranes shrink like cocks in cold water to cover each likewise contracting testicular nucleus. Bones become rock and flesh becomes bone. You cannot even approach a gasp. An obscenely obese stone-age Venus, her pendulous breasts and bloated belly carved from glassy melchonite, sits her dense arse down on your sternum. "Hello there," says Fran - that's her name after all. You don't answer. You can't. There is no air for you. What is your mind to do? Like coal pressed against seatstone with the weight of a planet, thoughts crystalize into diamonds. No nerve can transmit the gems. The bitch on your chest eats your dreams like faceted raisins. The demon in your gut sets your fossilized blood on fire. You cannot scream. Not even smoke can escape the gravity of your ending. .......... Okay, it’s been a rough day, and I can’t help but wonder. When I killed off that character at 11:30 this morning in an attempt to get out of a corner. Did I do it with the proper amount of respect? Death can be so casual in a novel. I’m begining to think we writers might be afraid of something. Well, Manny’ and Fran are at the door…Later.