Dark skies, not a soul for miles except one. Huddled by a fire, staring at a gun. Contemplating, contemplating. Feelings of hatred flow freely. Self-loathing is strong and noticeable. Feelings of loneliness and sorrow fill his hollow soul. No tears are shed, but the urge is prominent. Lies he tells himself constantly “you’re smart, you’ll make it one day, you have potential…” all lies fabricated for self-comfort.
The fire illuminates the sunken face of the defeated man. The will to go on is fading and the hope for tomorrow is numb. The meaning of life is long forgotten and the definition of failure has replaced it. Across from him sits a gun: cold, hard, menacing and unforgiving. Loaded with safety off it sits in waiting for its master to give it his potentially final command. He reaches for his savior and executioner. Shakily he slides it towards him, trembling as he raises it to his head.
The ground cracks, the temperature rises and darkness engulfs him. Faint screams, so quiet they are almost whispers, are heard from every direction. Black are the skies that surround him. Dry and hot is the air that envelops him. It pulls the moisture from his body and makes him yearn for water. He claws at the air in hopes of finding an exit, none is there. The screams grow louder with every passing moment as they draw towards him. Closer, closer. The shouts of the damned fill his ears and their everlasting pain fills his soul yet drains it at the same time. His heart is torn, beaten and destroyed. His soul tortured relentlessly. Agony, fear, hatred and malice… Nothing…
Awake, sweat drenched, mouth dry and heart racing. He looks around, darkness. The empty blackness is interrupted by the fire; his gun lay just out of reach. Was it real? Unlikely. Was it a dream? Probably. Life changing? Temporarily.
