Introduce and kill your character in once sentence.

Go.

Ooh...this is interesting.

Alice Witchberry was a different kind of girl, (a witch some might say) but she found herself crushed underneath a one ton boulder, blood oozing underneath the earthen mass.

He wasn't six years old anymore but I remembered when he was six and I made him bleed just a little behind the pews and he cried but I said it was okay and I kissed him on the lips, and it was my own blood now on my cassock and spattered across my Roman Collar and coming from a hole in my shell, my vessel, and I saw his three eyes the two between his beautiful nose and the one smoking gun powder, and I said goodbye to Jahova because I knew his door was closed to me now and I looked at the much older version of Andrew's finger still clutching the trigger back and I knew I pulled that trigger a long time ago.

My name is Crock Smith or at least that's what they called me, and they finally got me with a knife no less, Christ a knife, with so many hunting ol' Crock with guns who would've even thunk it true, but the blood gushing out my scrawny neck shows you can't whack a dame who called you fresh when she's got brothers and dads and uncles with the slick black hair and olive skin passed down from Diamond Joe Esposito himself.

White, that's what the snow is outside the window so it's okay that my hair's gone because the trees are bald too, and it's okay also that my very branches ache brittle from the Leukeran trudging slow through me like tree sap, killing the cancer but I know it has lost the fight for me and I don't blame the Leukeran or the doctors or my family for trying, but I know also that outside this sad, cold bedroom with one photograph by my bed of a man I haven't kissed since he grew old and died ten years ago, is my daughter and her husband, and my granddaughters who belong out there with their parents (and they proved that when they became too frightened of their bald grandmother to come see her), who all belong in the living room because they're still living and they're decorating a Christmas tree that still has all its hair like them and they're listening to Chestnuts Roasting by an Open Fire and I can hear the fire in the place, and I think, I wish I could go out into the world past the window, where I belong and I think, white that's the color my hair was.

No one has ever heard a bird sing before, not really heard like I heard it and the tap tapping of shoes and the voices loose like the breeze or tight like wet birch, or hoarse and old as sand, or young as moonflowers, and the hum bees buzzing through electrical wires, and I know no one has heard any of these things like I have heard them because I am deaf but I can hear and I saw the doctor's lips move and my mother cried, and it must've been a beautiful sound, but it wasn't happy crying, and she said with her hands: "you have an infection" and my hands said: "will I hear?" and hers said: "yes" and my hands said: "okay."

Fuck you who reads this because I wrote it and we wrote it in our blood and the soldiers are coming now and they'll take us all and no one will speak about the embers that smell of our flesh and I spit on David's Star because it is their star not his on my shirt and so now they come and I take the fountain pen in my hand and finish my words, quickly now the door is open guns are firing at my family and I take the pen to my heart and strike it down, piercing it, breaking it with inked tip and I write my own destiny in the blood on my floor, you only must read it.

I lied to her to protect her from the truth, when I said I loved her and kissed her on the forehead each morning, no, I lied to her because I am a coward and I will die a coward now as she holds my fingers, my body dangling from the cliff edge, the sweaty palms from the day I met her now betraying me as I slip from her grasp, and the look in her eyes is frantic there's no doubt that she loves me and so I have one last chance to not be a coward any more and I tell my wife: "Tell Richard Jenkins I love him" and finally I slip and the rocks below open their arms to embrace.