The Reality of Thoughts

Beginning

A ticking eased into my head, surrounding me, engulfing me. The gun in my hand lifted from the table before me. Carefully I slid the safety off, I held something powerful, I held a killer.

My breathing quickened. Slowly the gun I held raised in both of my hands, raised to the figure in the chair. They lay blood, beaten. I did that, I hurt them without laying a finger in them. I didn't want to die. The captor had a gun up to me as well, without even moving their arm.

Tears fell from my eyes. Hands shaking, I placed my finger on the trigger. I pulled. They died. I laughed slowly when I realized what I had done. The person I realized had the most beautiful blue eyes. The looked like pools of silver with ripples of waves roving through them.

Their head had been hung low when I killed them but when the life drained from them, they looked up at me. Begging, pleading. Their eyes held life until I killed them.

I dropped the gun abruptly and looked up. A camera hung delicately in the corner of the room. They always watched me. Always observing my every move.

The door in the other corner of the room slowly slide open. I watched until it completely opened before I trotted to it. Through the doorway I went, the next hell was right in front of me. Another room of pain, another room of misfortune.

****

My whole body convulsed upward. Flailing I woke up, breath already missing from my lungs, gasping. White hot heat emitted from under my covers. Sweat trickled down from my for head unto my brow.

I glanced around my dark room waiting for my eyes to adjust. Slowly I reached for the lamp near my bed. It lit a corner of the room, not much, but just enough.

My feet hit the cold ground below me. I slowly walked to the kitchen. I grabbed a glass from the cabinet above the sink. The pipes of the sink creaked in anguish as the water filled my glass.

I leaned against the counter staring into the distance. The dream I had was just another of many every night. I try not to think of them but when you remember every dream you have had since you were five you become concerned at twenty five.

I sighed abruptly and decided to get ready for work. Convenience store here I come. The time was about six thirty when I left. Taking my small road bike from my tiny apartment to the downstairs lobby.

I placed my blue hood over my face. This town was not a neighborly sort of place. People here would love to either mug you or get the chance to kill you. I don't want to take that chance.

The store was a few blocks away. Once I stopped by it I chained my bike up on the front post in front of the store. Nothing new, same ole same ole. I entered the Quick Mart, greeted by my friend Hayley, who also worked at the store. Her purple hair swished to and fro as she tackled me once inside the store.

"Hey jerkface sweet ride," I stared at her, wanting to tell her about my dream but figuring there would be no point.

"Only the best," I answer back. She snorts in laughter as we both walk behind the counter. Leaning there for half the day to no prevail. Only a few homeless drug addicts visit us at the counter, the others who entered the store probably stole and left, oh well.

I recline against the counter until my back begins to ache. Hayley sits on top, picking at the old lottery stickers that plaster the glass. "Why do you think we're here," her question catches me off guard.

"What do you mean here?"

"You know on Earth. Why are we living? What's the point of working in this place we're we are paid near to nothing to sit around all day?" She begins to kick her long legs to and fro.