An excerpt perhaps.

He squeezed the trigger thoughtlessly. A flash of sparks bounced into his eyes and mouth reminding him of the great ill he had just done, but that did not matter. Through the smoke he could see the spiraling bullet traveling on. It entered the glass and sent a thousand mistakes, lies, and truths showering out behind the frame. All the things he refused to see, pressing their condemnation upon him and showing him what he really looked like, were destroyed in an instant. He blinked. Time seemed to slow, and it felt as if an eternity had gone by before his eyelids fluttered open again. There was nothing left. All things had ceased to be. He tried to speak but could not. A darkness, so solid it could be felt, pressed down upon his eyes, and a mighty gust swept away the rest of his matter.

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You can read my finished story here: [link]

It's called The Darkest Death. Now you know why I like cockney so much. Please tell what you think about it.