The Dream

Gunmetal Eyes

Okay so I thought I'd add another little telling of a nightmare I had the other night. I have a lot of dreams normally, very very detailed dreams and because of my ptsd issues I have always had a significant sum of nightmares. The more traumatic things I go through in my life the more detailed and complex they get. All the nightmares I've had since the fire have been very dark, intense, and detailed. I thought I'd share this one because I couldn't stop thinking of it and I just needed to get it out...think of this more as a sort of journal. 

A WORD OF WARNING

This is a wee bit more of an intense story than the last one, its shorter but its more intense and that's why its shorter, I didn't want to write too detailedly about the intensity. It deals with death and violence and all that so I'm just warning you now. I'm just posting this to get it out, because personally it's scaring me. When I have dreams I see, feel, hear, taste, and smell every bit of it. It haunts me until I have another nightmare, forget about it, let it go, or get it out. 

Anyway...I guess enjoy...but this isn't the most enjoyable story. I wish my nightmares weren't so complex like this. On the bright side—if there is one—they make okay short stories. 

Gunmetal Eyes

The metronomic tap of the hands snapped me awake. It's tick ringing against it's tock in my mind.

"Do it," the voice commanded, its tone seething and its vocalization writhing with secluded power.

The hands grew louder, rattling the walls that kept my mind together.

"Do it!" the voice pressed, I could almost feel its venom warming the layers right beneath the skin of my neck.

I shifted my hand over slightly as the softest metal clink sounded from its grasp as I looked down to see the silver band on my ring finger rapping against the trigger as I shivered. A Davy's gray colored 9mm shaking in my hand, its bullet hammering its chamber, as ready to blow as I was.

"Kill him," it called again, coming from no discernible direction. A man sat in front of me, sweat on his brow, he didn't speak a word. He only stared at me with gunmetal eyes.

I couldn't kill him. I could never kill anyone. My heart bounded faster, its beats held longer, suspended in the viscosity of the fuel waiting for flame around me. The voice replayed in my mind, "Kill".

Suddenly a bright flash of light projected itself against the walls of this small, laboratoric room. Images of this man's life shown against the screen. Images of violence, of carnage, of deep deep hatred painted themselves in blood against the talc walls. I couldn't look away. All around me it shown almost like a memory, even the floorboards cast its dark shadows.

My eyes then discovered a doorway behind the man, its reflecting light almost bending around the man, it was all too enticing.

"Kill him," the voice called again, louder, "His time is through".

I looked down at my hands. They were not bound. I was not trapped, I did not have to stay. I did not have to kill this man.

I got up and darted around the man, heading for the door. My hands clasped the warm knob and I turned it, charging through.

In this next room sat a child, facing away from me, tied to the same metallic chair that the man behind me was. I walked around him to see the same shade of silver in his eyes, a pure silver, innocent and soft.

I stood in front of the boy a minute, he was just a boy.

"Kill him," the voice spoke once more, the door slammed loudly, startling the poor babe.

I sat confused, and even more fearful than I was before.

"His time has only begun," replied the voice to my fright.

The walls lit up once more and flashes of the boy's early life began to play. He was so innocent, so sweet, it was only the comforting nostalgia of childhood that were projected upon the screen.

I placed the gun on the chair opposite the boy, seemingly meant for myself, and walked towards the walls. I ran my hand across the soft screen watching visions that reminded me all too much of my own past, my own innocence. I sat entranced by this minute more before.

"Kill him!" the voice pleaded.

I turned around to snap at the voice with no positioning and suddenly before you the babe sat a boy, a larger boy—older, bigger. I ran up to stare in his silent platinum eyes to see them more solemn and aged, still young, but full of time.

The hands of the clock filled my mind with their rhythms once more. "Kill," the voice rang in my head.

Out of curiosity I burst through the door once more, this time its handle cold. Images still flashes on the walls of the man's life, but when I turned to see his face, he'd grown younger. His eyes a cool charcoal, only fuel for the fire raging inside and being projected across the screens in front of me.

I looked on to the horror, less intense than before but still shaking me to my inner core. The horror stood all too engrossing. When it became too much once more I ran to the next room, the boy even older this time, a teen with ashen eyes. Darkness began to sweep over the screens.

"Kill," the voice whispered again, this time joined by others, "Kill him".

"Kill who!" I shouted, shattering the silence of the room. The boy jumped, startled and too scared to speak, maybe he couldn't.

"Kill him," responded the voices.

I ran to the other room, the man grew even younger, only slightly older than the boy in the room you had just come from. His eyes jet black.

"Kill him!" the voices shouted again. I ran to the screens and stared on in the horror. It was too much, far too much. I dashed to the next room, "Kill him!" it rang. The teen had become the young man with jet black eyes I had just seen in the room across the way, images flashed on the screen of the same moments and memories I'd had just seen before.

"No, no, no!" I screamed, smashing my fist into the wall, it's pristine surface shattering ever so slightly into imperfection. I ran to the doorway between the rooms. In the first room the young man had become the teen with ashen eyes, the same projections being cast against the walls as you'd seen before, darkness.

I threw my head down into my hands and cried.

"Kill him!" the voices screamed.

I raised my head and the gun sat in front of me in-between the doorway, the two men on either side of me and once again become the baby and the man, their most gruesome memories flashing behind them as they turned to face me with black eyes.

"KILL!" the voices shrieked.

I grabbed the gun off the floor in front of me, its metal darker and heavier. I struggled to lift it off the floor. Out of fear of its power, I opened up the chamber.

Three bullets.

"KILL HIM! KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" the voices chanted.

Next thing I knew there was one shot, then two, and finally three.

Two bodies slumped to the floor and a third followed. Thick crimson dripped out of my mouth as my body slumped back against the ice doorframe.

The last thing I saw were projections of their last moments being shown on the screens, their death at the hands of myself, and I wept.