Echo

The needle was empty and Echo was reelin'. Jus' watchin' the shadows stretch cross the ceilin'. The lights had turned to winding worms and the sound of every pin dropped or key turned was carried up to Echo's loft, and the worst of it was the words. They slid and rolled and swelled and rushed from screaming anger to hush-hush and swept up in the voices her attention span was blurred. And just when it began to be so much that she could hardly stand the screams her mind escaped by fleeing to the forgetfulness of dreams.

She sees a woman running. It could be her, but she's not sure. There's a monster in the darkness. But it's so big she can't see all of it at once, only pieces of a claw, a scale, an eye. A light in the sky, she wants it to point towards the beast, but it shines in all the wrong places. There's a gun attached to a man attached to a smile with too many teeth. A flash, a crack, a sharp, deep pain.

Echo's eyes shot open while her hands tried to close around the pain in her chest, but they couldn't reach that deep. The sound was still pounding, and she felt herself drowning, but she wouldn't abide by dyin' without making a peep. She lifted her horn and sucked her final breath in deep, then blew one final lullaby before the big sleep. If her heart's givin' out, she's got nothin' to lose, 'cept an empty needle, her horn, and the blues.