A LIGHT IN DEATH
It was 2:57 am and the sound of Lacey's snapping spine had just finished echoing throughout the house. He was the only one home, as his wife had recently left him. His corpse laid upon the floor adjacent to the foot of the basement staircase, his skin soon to be as cold as the ice cubes he put in his whiskey on the rocks. Lacey was not a nice man. He drank too much, had a temper and had a bad habit of cheating on his spouse. His wife put up with it for years, but eventually she decided to leave. In a drunken stupor, Lacey had fallen down the basement staircase to his well-deserved death. Never again would his volatile temperament harm another human being. Never again would his rage diminish the self-esteem of those closest to him. Weeks would pass and Lacey's wife had already hit the town numerous times. His death was a blessing for her and she could finally find the peace that she deserved and needed. His co-workers rejoiced, knowing full well that never again would they have to sit through one of his agitated tirades. His family pretended to mourn, but in reality they did not miss him. His friends did not show up to his service as he truly had none anyway. The happiness after Lacey's death pushed forward like the current of an ever-flowing stream, his absence filling the void in the hearts of many. His narcissism made him believe he was the purest definition of a social butterfly, but in truth he would soon be forgotten entirely. Sleazier than a 1970's pornographic magazine, Lacey's legacy would get no publicity. His entire life washed away like a stain, making the world a better place for the people he never loved to begin with.