The dangers of self-medication. A short...... whatever-you-wanna-call-it

I was a bit bored, so decided to write this as an entry to the air-clinic contest originally, but the rules are a tad too much. Like 7,8 rules? C'mon.

Anyway, enjoy.
Await your thoughts.

---

---

It was a cold Tuesday night... Perhaps in June last year or was it July? The month, I can't remember, but the day definitely stuck.

It was a mild case of food poisoning-or so I thought.
From one side of the bed to the other, I rolled. Grabbing my tummy and grimacing in pain.

"sweetie, let me take you hospital, to receive a proper diagnosis" my wife said.

"I'll be alright, as in times past" I managed to mutter.

I thought it would pass, but worse it became.

On came the fever. A bit later, throwing up and then the shakes.

What's happening, I thought within. I crawled to the medicine cabinet, managed to get a hold of some tablets, and took them without paying much attention.

I waited to get better, but the worse I became.

Fatigued and powerless I became.

Then it hit me; the wrong drug I must have taken.

Oh I should have listened.... Self medication, a danger it is, and my wife, a widow she was about to be.
Alas, the end has come... I see him coming, the Grim Reaper, with his sickle in tow, to RIP my soul.

It's all fading and the blackness envelopes my soul.

I'm gone. Sean is no more.... dimmer and dimmer it gets. A flash, and then lights out it was.

You might be wondering how I'm here writing this..... I'm not here in flesh and blood... It's just a tale from the grave, my ghost if you will, sending a message to teach the living.

---

---

Word count: 250 words.

Love my posts?

I'll be very glad if you...

Seems to be a thing on this side of the universe. :)

If you also have anything you would like me to write about? Drop some lines in the comments section below.