Another short story

"Look down the barrel of my gun, my hands on the trigger. Any last words?"

"What are you trying to pull?"

"That's it?"

I pull the trigger and watch him fall back. Worthless shit. I did him a favor and put him out of his misery.

I put the gun in his lifeless hands. I write a note telling those close to him his suicide. I walk out of the apartment and light a smoke.

"Exciting isn't it?"

I casually talk to myself every so often. Don't judge.

I kill people. It's my job. Why would I even do this in the first place? Death doesn't bug me. The cries of people wanting their lives; I don't feel shit. Any hesitation before I cut through the throat of a mother of four? No, I feel satisfaction. I do this job since it helps me. It pays well, and it satisfies my thirst for blood shed.

I hate people. I hate the society I'm forced to dwell in. Each generation gets worse and worse. Every night I want to just save this world from such stupidity; just put on my jacket and take out everyone that sparks anger in me. Every night is worse and worse. My hate for this media controlled society is bound to make me snap. In case it happens, I keep myself prepared.

I meet my client in an alley.

"Have any smokes on you bud?

I hand him one.

"Thanks, How did the old fart go?"

"The usual, a quick shot. I gave him some time to think of what to say, he chose not to."

"Damn man. Well whatever, here's your pay."

He hands me a wad of hundred dollar bills. I count 10,000. I pull out my gun.

"Your short."

I cock the hammer back.

"Shit, my bad man, here's the other thousand."

"Good, you're lucky you paid fast enough, I was about to kill you."

He runs off. Fucking pussy.

I wave for a taxi. During the drive in the backseat I fall asleep and have a dream.

I dream of myself in a pasture, just laying in the grass. I fall into a deeper sleep. I imagine the sun on my face. I imagine the leaves falling ever so gently on my body.

"That'll be 45 dollars."

For that short taxi ride, the anger I had when I am awake was slowly released from me. I felt like I was... at peace. Only in dreams, I encounter this feeling. When I wake up, I feel that emptiness. I start to feel angry once again.

I go into my apartment. I go onto my bed and sleep. Again, I dream of the pasture.

The following morning I wake up. I feel like shit, I want to go back to sleep but I find myself unable to. I go out and meet my client. Today, I have to kill a baseball player's son.

Night comes. I sneak into the window. The kid's sleeping. My client wanted him dead by hanging. I take the child and choke him until he's unconscious. I tie a belt to the doorknob and place the kid's throat there. Only time will kill him. I have to make this look like a suicide. I pull out a pen and paper and try my best to write as shitty as possible. I try to write:

" Dad,
You were never there for me when I really needed the help. I felt lonely and I wanted out.

-Sam"

Ahh, it's almost my finest job to date. I get out and pull out a smoke. I meet my client in the alley.

"How do you feel?"

"Don't feel shit."

"Here's the pay."

I count the wad of hundred dollar bills; 20000$. This time he's right on the dot.

I follow the same same process as the night before. I go into a taxi, sleep, dream, go to apartment, sleep dream. Whenever I dream, I feel at peace.

For the next month, I'm booked with people to kill. Every day and night goes exactly the same. However there's one difference every night. I want to go back to that pasture longer and longer. That feeling alone makes this emptiness start to hurt.

It's the beginning of March. I feel worse than ever. I reached my peak. I really want to stay sleeping. I had said earlier I had prepared for this. I reach into my closet and pull out a note. I read it aloud:

"I want to stay in the pastures"

As I do with many of my victims I look down the barrel of my gun. I ask myself "Any last words?"

I don't say anything. I push the trigger.

I wake up. I see the sun and the grass. I made it into the pasture.

A short story

I wrote a short story for school. Might as well post it here

Story

I sit on a bench and light a smoke; the changing of seasons show through the blossoming of the cherry trees, and the eventual downpour of blossoms, each falling
at 5 centimeters per second. It’s a beautiful sight, but I can’t help but feel that
empty void in my heart, wanting it to be filled.

I take long drag from my smoke. It’s close to the filter. I take one more puff and
throw it away. Damn, what a stupid habit I got myself into. A cigarette, the long
tube of paper filled with tobacco and nicotine. One puff eases you, putting you into
a calm trance, but it doesn’t last long. Time without it, you start to have
cravings, the addiction. That sudden removal from that trance, you urge to be back
inside. Only a smoke can get you back. I take one out from my pocket and light one
up. I inhale the smoke. I feel it going down my lungs, slowly cutting away the time
left in my life, clouding the pain I have in my heart. I welcome it.

Once during each season I come here, to sit and relive the past. The past… that
beautiful thing I once had. Everything went perfect. It came to a sudden halt, the
past stood still as I continued on with my life. I close my eyes to catch a glimpse
of the past. I reopen them.

“It’s like she’s the image of my past”, just her, standing staring at me. Her eyes
filled with sadness as she slowly goes farther away from me. I take a drag from my
smoke and exhale. I lean back as I breathe out, trying to hold back the tears that
I’ve been keeping this long while.

I close my eyes again. I imagine her lips pressed against mine, her eyes tightly
shut. I can remember that very moment, our first kiss. I keep my eyes closed to
relive that moment.

It was on a cold February night. The snow was still on the ground. She called me
earlier to come and play a song for her. I chose to play “Last Christmas”. It may
have been a little late for the occasion, but the setting we were in couldn’t have
been anymore idyllic. She came out the door; she wore a white jacket with one of
those ear muffs. She couldn’t have looked anymore adorable. We sat on a park bench;
the moon was luminating over the bench. We sat down and I played the song. I saw
tears in her eyes.

“It was beautiful”, she told me.

“I try”.

It became quiet and I looked up at the moon. I couldn’t help but notice our
surroundings. Unexpectedly she pecked me on the cheek. I turned to her. She blushed.
I looked her in the eye, and I kissed her. From there on, I knew I had fallen in
love with her.
…
I open my eyes. The tears started to come through. It’s unbearable. I drop my smoke and put my head down. I cannot control myself and I let the tears flow down my face. I can feel the pain coming from my heart, all that emotion I’ve been holding in.
They want to come out but I hold it in.

“It’s my entire fault”, this pain…this is from my own doing

“I want it back; all of it, but it’s too late”. I had gone too far. Her decision was
too much for me to handle but I wasn’t able to cope. The chances of the past
becoming the present was destroyed, destroyed by my anger.

“It’s over, but let me see you around okay? Please, promise me that”, those were her last words to me.

“You won’t ever see me again”.

I stood up from the bench and took out another cigarette. I wiped the tears from my face and walked the path. I spotted a cherry blossom on its way down, at a speed of
5 centimeters per second. I watch it take its’ slow journey from a beautiful cherry
tree to the ground, where the dirt rests.