09-07-2014, 08:28 PM
A work in progress.
He paced the room, lost in thought. With every pass he drew closer to his destination. He occasionally stopped to point the gun at the only person in the room. This place might as well have been his own little world. A very warped world. He finally found what he was searching for. Rather, he found the will to pick the object up. What he was truly searching for would come later.
It was a simple mirror on the nightstand. He stared at the reflection, trying to forget who it was. He couldn't. He couldn't and it made his blood boil. He turned away and quietly sat the gun down. He returned his gaze to the reflection. "Why are you not enough? Why are you incapable of being more?" he muttered, almost silently.
In an instant the reflection disappeared. He noticed the pain before he looked down to see his fist bleeding. "Honey, what was that? Are you okay?" Asked a faraway voice. He had no time to fool with it. He retrieved the gun and continued with his thoughts. He allowed himself a slight smile when he heard the doorknob rattle. If only they knew.
It was time. The door wouldn't hold much longer. He made sure the note was easy to find. "3." He put the gun in place. "2." The door gave. "1." He began laughing as they rushed towards him. He straightened himself and uttered his final word, "Bang."
It had been years since he had pulled the trigger. At least, that's what he figured. It was hard keeping track of time in a place where time didn't matter. He'd thought he would end up in Hell after his brain had been reduced to splatter art on the walls. Surprisingly, he hadn't. Instead of fire, brimstone, and pain, he awoke to grey skies, raggedy clothing, and sheer indifference. This was a sort of Purgatory reserved for the lost souls and fuck ups.
He paced the room, lost in thought. With every pass he drew closer to his destination. He occasionally stopped to point the gun at the only person in the room. This place might as well have been his own little world. A very warped world. He finally found what he was searching for. Rather, he found the will to pick the object up. What he was truly searching for would come later.
It was a simple mirror on the nightstand. He stared at the reflection, trying to forget who it was. He couldn't. He couldn't and it made his blood boil. He turned away and quietly sat the gun down. He returned his gaze to the reflection. "Why are you not enough? Why are you incapable of being more?" he muttered, almost silently.
In an instant the reflection disappeared. He noticed the pain before he looked down to see his fist bleeding. "Honey, what was that? Are you okay?" Asked a faraway voice. He had no time to fool with it. He retrieved the gun and continued with his thoughts. He allowed himself a slight smile when he heard the doorknob rattle. If only they knew.
It was time. The door wouldn't hold much longer. He made sure the note was easy to find. "3." He put the gun in place. "2." The door gave. "1." He began laughing as they rushed towards him. He straightened himself and uttered his final word, "Bang."
It had been years since he had pulled the trigger. At least, that's what he figured. It was hard keeping track of time in a place where time didn't matter. He'd thought he would end up in Hell after his brain had been reduced to splatter art on the walls. Surprisingly, he hadn't. Instead of fire, brimstone, and pain, he awoke to grey skies, raggedy clothing, and sheer indifference. This was a sort of Purgatory reserved for the lost souls and fuck ups.