Wings from Death

Chapter One

I clicked my pistol into battery, the slide moved forward chambering a new round. I turned pulling the gun up. Stretched at arms length, the gun balanced perfectly in my hand. I glanced down the sight towards the man that stood in front of me. His body stood strong and and tall but his eyes gave a hint of fear. The moonlight flickered over the grooves on my pistol. I stared into the mans eyes and squeezed the trigger.

The morning sun interrupted my slumber. The bright light cut through my closed eyelids; the heat caused sweat to seep from my brow. I rolled over in my bed. The blankets slipped from me as I peered at the alarm clock on my bed-side table. 6:45 appeared in green digital numbers. I turned; lying on my back staring at the ceiling trying to remember the fragments of my dream. Weightlessness, coldness, gun-smoke. I kept remembering feelings, but no images appeared in my brain. Perhaps I'll remember it later I thought to myself as I turned to the other side of my bed. The blankets formed a mound over what lay beneath. It was long and skinny and formed alluring shapes as the covers lay over it. I leaned towards the mass and ran my hand along its length, admiring its beauty. I pulled the sheets back from the head of the bed revealing wavy caramel hair and pale skin. I smiled at the woman that lay before me. I brushed the hair back revealing the face of my wife. Her face was powerful, prevalent cheekbones coupled with a strong jawline. She looked so gentle in her sleep however. I leaned my head forward and kissed her cheek. She stirred and smiled, her eyes still closed. I turned, trying not to stir my wife more as I rolled out of bed. I stood and stretched my rested body letting out a small moan in the process. I trudged towards the bathroom closing the door behind me.

The sound of running water filled the air as I lathered shaving foam on my face. I produced the double edge razor from its stand and took the blade to my skin. The cold steel sailed smoothly across my cheek, removing the coarse hairs rather quickly. I ran the blade under the tap, removing the hair caught in the razor. Taking the blade back to my face I started to do a second cut. A sting run through my skin as I pulled the razor over my jaw line. Blood started to seep from my face. I quickly placed the razor down and pressed my fingers against the small cut to stop the bleeding.

"Dammit"

I looked into the mirror that was in front of me, my own face caught my interest. I looked into the eyes, my own eyes. They were blue, a nice deep blue given the light conditions. My hair looked as though someone had ruffled it during my sleep, it formed dark twists and curls. I brushed some locks away from my face. I glanced over my facial features: wide jaw, narrow chin, sunken eyes, defined cheekbones and a reasonable sized nose. I guess I wasn't that bad looking. I moved my attention back to my shave. I decided to scrap the second cut, there was hardly any hair on my face anyway. I dried my face and dabbed some aftershave on, it stung in the tiny cut. I winced baring my teeth. I left the bathroom to get some breakfast.

I turned bacon strips and eggs in the fry pan as they sizzled away. I kept trying to think back on my dream. It was all foggy, all I could remember was what I felt: cold, weightless, the smell of gun smoke. There was something else though. I felt like I was close to remembering when a rogue droplet of hot oil hit my face. I jumped being snapped out of my thought. I turned the cooked food out onto a clean plate and sat down. I ate slowly. My mind wandered, I was still hooked on that dream, with no clue as to what happened in it. I had almost finished my breakfast when it hit me. I was flying in the dream.