Magic and Monsters

Gun Point

Charles Lancaster weaved his way through the crowded city streets with a heavy suitcase full of paperwork. He let out a long sigh and ran a hand through his brown hair. The night air was cold and his surroundings were noisy as ever. Tall glass buildings surrounded him as vehicles of all kinds honked back and forth whilst illuminating the streets with their bright headlights.

After a long day at work, Charles was always relieved to return to his apartment where he could escape from the stresses of life with a hot bath and a pint of beer. He spotted a yellow cab and immediately hailed it. The driver nodded behind a pair of dark sunglasses, before swerving up to the concrete curb.

"Good evening sir, where would your destination be?" asked the man from behind the steering wheel. Charles could sense his eyes on him despite the sunglasses.

"11 York Street would be perfect," replied Charles.

"We'll be there shortly." grunted the driver. Charles noticed that the taxi license holder was empty, but decided not to think too much of it. It was common place for lackadaisical appearances, and even more apathetic regulation in the metropolitan areas.

Charles gazed out the windows blankly as they zipped through the city. He sighed and began to nod off, the toll of another long day of crunching numbers in an office chair catching up to him. The loud noises and lights of the city faded into the background as he welcomed a light snooze.

A sudden swinging sensation woke Charles from his light slumber. The car made a violent turn into a dark alleyway. The driver slammed on the brakes, making the tyres squeal to a stop. Before he could open his mouth, there was an unmistakeable a click of a revolver.

"Your money or your life!" demanded the cab driver. He was pointing a black handgun straight at Charles.

Charles immediately placed both hands in the air before glancing around. The driver had taken them to secluded area with nothing but dark brick walls as witnesses.

"Hurry up! Just give me your money and I'll let you go!" exclaimed the driver again. He sounded almost desperate and pleading. Charles noticed a slight shake on the driver's hands, betraying anxiety and fear.

Charles nodded and reached his hand into his pocket slowly. He never carried a lot of cash, and his life was definitely worth a lot more than money that can't be brought to the grave.

His wallet... it was missing! 

Panic filled his mind. The only thing that could save his life was gone! Charles immediately checked the other pocket, followed by his jacket. Nothing except a used tissue.

"Shit, I can't find my wallet, I must have dropped it at some point!" stammered Charles. Cold sweat broke out across his body. 

"WHAT? As if I'd fall for that! I'm giving you three seconds to save your sorry ass!" yelled the driver.

"Three!"

Charles had to do something! Anything!

"Two!"

He racked his head for a way out. What were the chances of him wrestling the gun off the crazy driver?

"ONE!"

Charles made a desperate lunge forward for the gun. His hand reached towards the nozzle and just when he was about to grab it, he was suddenly yanked back away by the seat-belt which he stupidly forgot to unlatch. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

The driver had the audacity to give out a laugh.

"Dead bodies don't resist. Maybe you'll have better luck in your next life." he said. 

Charles let out a defeated sigh. "Fuck," he said. 

The gunman then pulled the trigger.

But right before his brains got blasted out, time appeared to freeze. The bullet was stuck in mid-air, not even an inch of Charles' forehead. He was also stuck in place, unable to move out of the way.

Everything was perfectly silent as if every molecule was frozen in time and space. Charles' own heart was no longer beating, but he could still think. What was happening?

A multitude of voices began to speak in unison like an awful choir.

"Yet another life... comes towards an end."

The voice didn't appear to have an origin. It resonated through the air from every direction and sounded like a symphony of a thousand voices in one.

'What is happening? Is this life flashing before my eyes?' thought Charles.

The thousand voices spoke again.

"Chosen one, you have been granted a decision." It said. "The first would be to accept your fate and die as you are now. The alternative I offer you would be to live the life of a hero."

The mysterious thousand voices paused for a moment to let the meaning sink in, before continuing.

"However a hero's life is not about adventure and gallantry. It is a path of darkness and despair, perhaps worse than death. Choose wisely, for the latter may bring nothing, but regret." finished the voice.

"You know what? Let's go with the second one! I can be a really good hero!" yelled Charles. He had always dreamed of being a hero since he was young, and because a bullet was in front of his forehead.

"Very well, I hope you have considered well, chosen one."

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the bullet began to spin again slowly. It began to move towards his forehead as if time was beginning to flow again.

Shit! Did the entity misunderstand? He tried to move, but he was in slow motion too. He would never make it out of the way in time.

He closed his eyes and waited for the gruesome end.