The Ending:

I chatting with a novelist last night at a rave. Her secret was to write the ending first. It sounds like a great idea. I've been obsessed with beginnings and continually getting stuck in the middle. So here's my attempt at an ending:

Broken glass crunched beneath her shoes as she entered the room. She stopped for a moment and her eyes grew wide. He lay slumped against the wall, breathing heavily. His face was smudged with black and his nose was bleeding. His lower lip was split and one eye was swelling shut. She ran the last fews steps and kneeled before him, sweeping his hair away from his forehead. "Are you all right?"

"I'm dying," he whispered. He had one hand pressed against his side. She looked closer and saw a dark red stain on his shirt, spreading under his hand.

"No," she said, "it's going to be okay. I'm here. We'll get you to a hospital." She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and started to dial. "Damn, no signal. I've got to go outside to call. Wait here." She stood to go.

"If I don't make it, I want you to tell them something for me."

"What?"

"Tell'em I died angry."

"Oh baby, you don't want to die angry, not with me here" She knelt and kissed him ever so gently, being careful of his split lip. "I'm sorry."

"Okay, tell'em I died hard."