She effortlessly pulled the knife across his throat. He bled without protest, eyes wide open, accepting the end while she sat next time him and held his hand. This wasn’t an act of brutality, it was one of love. His hand slackened on hers but she didn’t let go, it wasn’t quite time yet. He burbled his last breath and faded out of existence. Tears of joy fell from her face, she held him close and told him those final things that only those who loved each other deeply should be privy to. She kissed him gently on the forehead and sat back in her chair, tears of joy being replaced by tears of acceptance. She had killed him. She beat the cancer to it; with his blessing together they beat it. She wasn’t finished just yet though, she picked up the blade and took a deep breath, then rammed in as deep into her eye socket as she could. It was enough.
This is one of perhaps hundreds of opening premises I have written. It really is called Seeing Things as well. I give them all names. It’s presented basically unedited, as is. There are many obvious things I could do to tighten it up, but I’m not going to. This is usually how I start writing a story, with a premise. From there, after a few sentences, if I’m lucky I can see what’s going to happen, what’s not, and even the end if I’m very lucky. Usually, its gone too fast and I never seem to have the fuel to get around to turning them into the fully formed story I see for a fleeting second. This is one of those. I keep them all in the hope that at some point down the line, I’ll have a moment of clarity and know exactly what to do with it, until then, it can loiter here.