The Vultures in Disneyland

The Bicameral Consciousness - Part 1

The tickling of the clock on the wall has done anything but help her to surpass the eerie in the air she is feeling. But she has to look at the clock, she can't resist. For the first time she agrees to the ways of uncertainty and destiny; because if you don't know things to happen, you won't have to live with the fear of them before their happening. There's still 15 minutes, she knows it. She recalls the date, November 11. The thought of that date injects a cold surge of fear in somewhere between her body and soul. Her eyes have not been off the clock but she is having problems knowing the time. The retina of her eye seems to have lost connection with her brain. Everything is a blur, yet she knows what exactly is going to happen in a few minutes. Also that there is nothing she can do about it because it is her pain to shelter that someone's going to die in about 13 minutes. Just like they have been dying for the last 30 years.

Psychology was everything Allison wanted to study ever since she got bullied in high school. She wanted to know what the girl who bullied her was thinking at the time, what signals was her brain receiving and why. She hoped to know why people think the way they do, why people act the way they do. Sometimes she used to think about that girl before she slept, upto midnight. Despite her parents' differences in perception, her mindset was not changing. She knew, Subtle reasons are the most important ones, the only ones that matter. Allison went to college, got her degree in the hope of helping bullied children psychologically.

The image on her eye is finding its way to clarity, the clock shows 10:55. The rush of fear is taking control over her body, her thoughts. 5 minutes! She says to herself, "It'll be over in 5 minutes." Allison knows that she's right. She has been a part of it for the last 25 years and figured nothing. The failure is what she lives with, even though she knows it isn't her job, but it's hard for her to see herself fail in her aim. Misson. Philosophy. She doesn't mourn the dead but the ones that are left behind. There will be someone waiting for her tomorrow and she won't know what to do with the person because she herself has no idea.

On the other side of the city, a family has already gone to sleep, a middle class one where the father works in web product management and the mother is a housewife. They wanted two children but could financially manage only one. Of course, they want to have a daughter in the future but the possibility is still very thin. The clock turns 11:00, there's nothing but a pitch darkness, which is giving more life to the silence that already persists. In the meantime, the front door opens, a man walks in wearing a leather jacket and leather pants, just like a cowboy without the hat. He enters the apartment but doesn't suck any silence out of it, the room is so silent like it is a vacuum. Not even the sound of air is traceable. The man makes his way to the bedroom, caresses their faces and slits their throats. None of them make a sound, like there was something blocking those sonic waves. He sniffles the aroma of the blood that is wetting the covers. As he goes to the other room, he sees a child as he expected, as he planned. The guy takes out a battery chargeable bow and a few arrows out of his bag and hands them to the child. The child is stiff with fear and anxiety but as soon as the man gives him the bow, he becomes happy. He takes the bow in his parents' bedroom and starts aiming at his parents dead body. An arrow goes straight to his father's nose hole, he chuckles, soundlessly.

"Thank you, the gift man." He returns back to his room where the gift man is still waiting for him. The man caresses his head and goes away as the blood has made its way to the front door. The child, on the other hand, returns back to the bedroom and continues shooting arrows until there's no part of his parents' body to be seen.

Here in the hospital, Allison is looking at the front gate, she knows he'll be there. She has already seen the news about the death of a family where an only child survived, exactly like the other 30 cases. The van arrives, finally. A child is brought for psych evaluation. Allison doesn't have to guess anymore; it is the same child, the child who saw a horror movie in real time. The first thing she notices is the smile on his face, it hurts her. Perhaps she expected something different but alas, every one of them were the same.