March 26, 2025 • 11 mins
Last Breath is glimpse into the mind of a man on the threshold of death. Who is with him and what does he think about in the waning hours of his life? Memories blur with reality. The past and present entwine. And as the clock winds down, he must decide—does he linger, or does he finally let go?
L.N. Hunter shares an untidy home with two cats and a soulmate, and besides a comic fantasy novel, 'The Feather and the Lamp,' has been published in 'Best of British Science Fiction 2022' and 'Trickster's Treats 3,' among other magazines and anthologies. "Last Breath" appeared in Short Circuit #14, Short Édition's quarterly review.
You can read "Last Breath" at https://www.kaidankaistories.com.
Other stories by LN Hunter featured on the Kaidankai are:
Skin Deep
Observer Effect
Poster Children
The Monster in the Dungeon
Website: kaidankaistories.com
Please feel free to contact me through the website contact form.
Follow us on:
Instagram
Facebook
Bluesky
Substack
L.N. Hunter shares an untidy home with two cats and a soulmate, and besides a comic fantasy novel, 'The Feather and the Lamp,' has been published in 'Best of British Science Fiction 2022' and 'Trickster's Treats 3,' among other magazines and anthologies. "Last Breath" appeared in Short Circuit #14, Short Édition's quarterly review.
You can read "Last Breath" at https://www.kaidankaistories.com.
Other stories by LN Hunter featured on the Kaidankai are:
Skin Deep
Observer Effect
Poster Children
The Monster in the Dungeon
Website: kaidankaistories.com
Please feel free to contact me through the website contact form.
Follow us on:
Bluesky
Substack
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:09):
Welcome to the Kit podcast, where the eerie, the mysterious,
and the spine shilling come alive in stories that linger
long after the last word is spoken. I'm your host
Linda Gould, and today's story, I Think really will touch
all of you. It's called Last Breath by Ellen Hunter.
(00:32):
It's a glimpse into the mind of a man on
the threshold of eternity. He's about to die. Who is
with him and what does he think about In the
waning hours of his life. Memories blur with reality, the
past and the present entwine, and as the clock winds down,
it's time to decide. Does he linger or does he
(00:55):
finally let go? Ellen Hunter shares an untied be home
with two cats and a soulmate, and besides a comic
fantasy novel, The Feather in the Lamp, has been published
in Best of British Science Fiction twenty twenty two and
Trickster's Treats three, among other magazines and anthologies. Last Breath
first appeared in Short Circuit number fourteen, Short Editions, Quarterly
(01:20):
Review and Now Dim the Lights. Take a deep breath
and step into one man's final thoughts in Last Breath
by L. N. Hunter. And enjoy trufh. They say the
(01:41):
final sense to go is hearing, but touch lasts right
till the end, not over the whole body. Though. I
can't feel Dot's hand in mine, but this fucking diaper
itches like blazes. I must have shpit myself again. Didn't
notice it happening. In can smell it, can't smell anything,
(02:02):
but I can feel this fucking itch. I want to
call the nurse, but I don't have the strength. All
I can do is lie here and listen to Dot
rambling on. I try to squeeze her hand, but can't
even do that. Maybe she'll notice the smell and call someone.
I'll just have to lie here with my itchy ass
crack me and Dot Me and Dot Dorothy Perdieu, who'd
(02:31):
have thought married sixty eight years before she died. I
remember chasing her through the fields at the old Farm,
both our faces ruddy and our bodies hot. We did
it right there in the stubble between the haystacks. My
back was as itchy after as my backside it is now.
It was our first time both of us and Vera
(02:54):
came along nine months later. Back in those days, there
was no question about doing the right thing. So we
got hitched, and damned the gossips, it was an okay marriage.
I didn't truly love Dot, but I did my duty.
Even after a lifetime with her, I'm still not sure
(03:17):
what love is. I do know what lust is. Mind.
Dot wasn't the smartest girl or the prettiest. We were
just two people meeting at the right time. Diane Wilkins,
on the other hand, who long blonde hair and legs
up to here, as they say, and a wanton smile
(03:38):
that would make a choir boy burst into flames. Gran
Granpy's got as stiffy ew Johnny, Johnny, Hush, you can't
say things like that. Does not Dot's voice, Damn my
wandering mind. Vera. Vera takes care of my great grandson
(04:00):
after school because his parents work. They never visit me.
Too busy, both of them, but Vera still comes twice
a week. Johnny in tow it's Vera who's holding my
hand and chattering away. Well he does. Vera sighs. His
body's old and he can't control it. Indeed, hearing persists
(04:25):
even when nothing else works. But my ass, itch, I've
got a cataract in one eye and a plastic lens
in the other. Can't say a damn thing without my glasses.
The nurses don't bother to put him on me anymore.
It's nothing to look at anyway. Most of the time
I squint to try to see dot uh vera I mean,
(04:45):
But all I get are blotchy shadows in the bright light.
Can't tell which shapes are real and which are figments
of my body's deterioration. How long have they been here
beside me? I struggle to say hello, but it comes out.
Do we have to stay? Johnny wines? That would have
(05:06):
earned a boy a clip around the ear in my time,
but I can't say I blame him. I don't want
to be here either. Just a few more minutes. Show
some respect for your granddad. There's a hint of tears
in her voice. Go on, tell him about your day
(05:26):
at school. I don't hear them leave. I must have
dropped off. At least my ass doesn't itch anymore. The
light in the ward is still bright, but I can
tell it's late evening because of the buzz of the
fluorescent lights. Why do I have such a cute hearing
but can't see more than blurred silhouettes scuttling around the
(05:47):
edges of my vision. When I wake up again, there's
only a faint glow from outside my room, the nurse's
desk at the end of the corridor. I guess, nothing
but shadows and darkness near me. The room's crowded, full
of movement and murmuring. Who's there? I try to say,
(06:08):
but all that emerges is uh. Ever, some of the
shadowy figures lean closer. Is that Dot? And there's Diane.
They're laughing, just the way I imagine. Then, when I
like to believe we could all be friends, I wonder
what Diane's doing now. No, this isn't real. That's dead,
(06:32):
and Diane would be in her nineties if she's still alive.
I guess I'll be dead soon. I strained to hear
what they're whispering, but they stop talking and stare at me,
then slip back amongst the other shadows. I know they
aren't really there, and I know there aren't any shades
(06:52):
waiting to greet me when I die. There's no such
thing as the afterlife. The days of our years are
threescore year years and ten. The Good Book says, well,
I reckon I'd got past four score and ten before
I lost count, so I can't complain. I've had an
okay life in the main, nothing too bad, nothing too good. Oh.
(07:14):
I've had some regrets, but don't we all and Vera
made up for those. I felt an overwhelming need to
protect her ever since I first laid eyes on her tiny,
screwed up face. I'm not much used for protecting anyone
these days. I want to tell the doctors and nurses
(07:35):
and Dot and Vera, even Johnny and his father, my grandson,
that I've had enough of living. You don't realize how
much you take communication for granted until you can't do
it anymore. It's just shadows visiting me in my imagination.
(08:00):
They come more often than Vera, and they're more cheerful
than my real visitors. Even though I suspect their laughter
is directed at me, I don't care, and I start
to laugh too. I stop when I hear the grotesque
sounds I'm making. Dots sitting beside me, I can feel
her hand in mind, even though she's not there. She
(08:25):
looks up passed my head. One of the shadows, taller
than the rest, is approaching. It looms closer but I
can't make out a face. Damned imagination. I want to
(08:47):
tell him I don't believe in him either. I want
to tell him I'm just going to bloody ignore him
and go to sleep, and go to sleep, go to
(09:17):
This story really touched me because as a death dola,
I regularly see people on their deathbed talking to deceased
family members. It's as if the deceased is right there bedside.
It's clear when you watch someone die that what really
matters is the people who are in their life. This
(09:41):
man starts out cranky, maybe a little annoyed, but his
memories seem to calm him, helping him along his way.
It's nice to think that we will each be met
by people who loved us and will guide us when
we are untethered from this world. Because no matter how
prepared some one is for death, it's still a scary prospect.
(10:04):
I've even known people who are ready to die and
still they have that little fear of the unknown, and
this story so beautifully captures that, in my opinion. Ellen
Hunter has submitted many stories to the kaititon Kai, and
I'll post a link to the other stories in the
(10:25):
episode description, so be sure to check out some of
the others, and also please check out the kaiton Kai
substack to see what inspired Ellen to write this story. Also,
please subscribe to the podcast. More subscribers bring these stories
to more people. It's really that simple, thanks to the algorithms.
(10:45):
The kaiton Kai also has a Facebook page and we're
on Instagram, so please check us out there. Thank you
so much for listening today, See you next week.
Welcome to the Kit podcast, where the eerie, the mysterious,
and the spine shilling come alive in stories that linger
long after the last word is spoken. I'm your host
Linda Gould, and today's story, I Think really will touch
all of you. It's called Last Breath by Ellen Hunter.
(00:32):
It's a glimpse into the mind of a man on
the threshold of eternity. He's about to die. Who is
with him and what does he think about In the
waning hours of his life. Memories blur with reality, the
past and the present entwine, and as the clock winds down,
it's time to decide. Does he linger or does he
(00:55):
finally let go? Ellen Hunter shares an untied be home
with two cats and a soulmate, and besides a comic
fantasy novel, The Feather in the Lamp, has been published
in Best of British Science Fiction twenty twenty two and
Trickster's Treats three, among other magazines and anthologies. Last Breath
first appeared in Short Circuit number fourteen, Short Editions, Quarterly
(01:20):
Review and Now Dim the Lights. Take a deep breath
and step into one man's final thoughts in Last Breath
by L. N. Hunter. And enjoy trufh. They say the
(01:41):
final sense to go is hearing, but touch lasts right
till the end, not over the whole body. Though. I
can't feel Dot's hand in mine, but this fucking diaper
itches like blazes. I must have shpit myself again. Didn't
notice it happening. In can smell it, can't smell anything,
(02:02):
but I can feel this fucking itch. I want to
call the nurse, but I don't have the strength. All
I can do is lie here and listen to Dot
rambling on. I try to squeeze her hand, but can't
even do that. Maybe she'll notice the smell and call someone.
I'll just have to lie here with my itchy ass
crack me and Dot Me and Dot Dorothy Perdieu, who'd
(02:31):
have thought married sixty eight years before she died. I
remember chasing her through the fields at the old Farm,
both our faces ruddy and our bodies hot. We did
it right there in the stubble between the haystacks. My
back was as itchy after as my backside it is now.
It was our first time both of us and Vera
(02:54):
came along nine months later. Back in those days, there
was no question about doing the right thing. So we
got hitched, and damned the gossips, it was an okay marriage.
I didn't truly love Dot, but I did my duty.
Even after a lifetime with her, I'm still not sure
(03:17):
what love is. I do know what lust is. Mind.
Dot wasn't the smartest girl or the prettiest. We were
just two people meeting at the right time. Diane Wilkins,
on the other hand, who long blonde hair and legs
up to here, as they say, and a wanton smile
(03:38):
that would make a choir boy burst into flames. Gran
Granpy's got as stiffy ew Johnny, Johnny, Hush, you can't
say things like that. Does not Dot's voice, Damn my
wandering mind. Vera. Vera takes care of my great grandson
(04:00):
after school because his parents work. They never visit me.
Too busy, both of them, but Vera still comes twice
a week. Johnny in tow it's Vera who's holding my
hand and chattering away. Well he does. Vera sighs. His
body's old and he can't control it. Indeed, hearing persists
(04:25):
even when nothing else works. But my ass, itch, I've
got a cataract in one eye and a plastic lens
in the other. Can't say a damn thing without my glasses.
The nurses don't bother to put him on me anymore.
It's nothing to look at anyway. Most of the time
I squint to try to see dot uh vera I mean,
(04:45):
But all I get are blotchy shadows in the bright light.
Can't tell which shapes are real and which are figments
of my body's deterioration. How long have they been here
beside me? I struggle to say hello, but it comes out.
Do we have to stay? Johnny wines? That would have
(05:06):
earned a boy a clip around the ear in my time,
but I can't say I blame him. I don't want
to be here either. Just a few more minutes. Show
some respect for your granddad. There's a hint of tears
in her voice. Go on, tell him about your day
(05:26):
at school. I don't hear them leave. I must have
dropped off. At least my ass doesn't itch anymore. The
light in the ward is still bright, but I can
tell it's late evening because of the buzz of the
fluorescent lights. Why do I have such a cute hearing
but can't see more than blurred silhouettes scuttling around the
(05:47):
edges of my vision. When I wake up again, there's
only a faint glow from outside my room, the nurse's
desk at the end of the corridor. I guess, nothing
but shadows and darkness near me. The room's crowded, full
of movement and murmuring. Who's there? I try to say,
(06:08):
but all that emerges is uh. Ever, some of the
shadowy figures lean closer. Is that Dot? And there's Diane.
They're laughing, just the way I imagine. Then, when I
like to believe we could all be friends, I wonder
what Diane's doing now. No, this isn't real. That's dead,
(06:32):
and Diane would be in her nineties if she's still alive.
I guess I'll be dead soon. I strained to hear
what they're whispering, but they stop talking and stare at me,
then slip back amongst the other shadows. I know they
aren't really there, and I know there aren't any shades
(06:52):
waiting to greet me when I die. There's no such
thing as the afterlife. The days of our years are
threescore year years and ten. The Good Book says, well,
I reckon I'd got past four score and ten before
I lost count, so I can't complain. I've had an
okay life in the main, nothing too bad, nothing too good. Oh.
(07:14):
I've had some regrets, but don't we all and Vera
made up for those. I felt an overwhelming need to
protect her ever since I first laid eyes on her tiny,
screwed up face. I'm not much used for protecting anyone
these days. I want to tell the doctors and nurses
(07:35):
and Dot and Vera, even Johnny and his father, my grandson,
that I've had enough of living. You don't realize how
much you take communication for granted until you can't do
it anymore. It's just shadows visiting me in my imagination.
(08:00):
They come more often than Vera, and they're more cheerful
than my real visitors. Even though I suspect their laughter
is directed at me, I don't care, and I start
to laugh too. I stop when I hear the grotesque
sounds I'm making. Dots sitting beside me, I can feel
her hand in mind, even though she's not there. She
(08:25):
looks up passed my head. One of the shadows, taller
than the rest, is approaching. It looms closer but I
can't make out a face. Damned imagination. I want to
(08:47):
tell him I don't believe in him either. I want
to tell him I'm just going to bloody ignore him
and go to sleep, and go to sleep, go to
(09:17):
This story really touched me because as a death dola,
I regularly see people on their deathbed talking to deceased
family members. It's as if the deceased is right there bedside.
It's clear when you watch someone die that what really
matters is the people who are in their life. This
(09:41):
man starts out cranky, maybe a little annoyed, but his
memories seem to calm him, helping him along his way.
It's nice to think that we will each be met
by people who loved us and will guide us when
we are untethered from this world. Because no matter how
prepared some one is for death, it's still a scary prospect.
(10:04):
I've even known people who are ready to die and
still they have that little fear of the unknown, and
this story so beautifully captures that, in my opinion. Ellen
Hunter has submitted many stories to the kaititon Kai, and
I'll post a link to the other stories in the
(10:25):
episode description, so be sure to check out some of
the others, and also please check out the kaiton Kai
substack to see what inspired Ellen to write this story. Also,
please subscribe to the podcast. More subscribers bring these stories
to more people. It's really that simple, thanks to the algorithms.
(10:45):
The kaiton Kai also has a Facebook page and we're
on Instagram, so please check us out there. Thank you
so much for listening today, See you next week.
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