Archive for the ‘Samples of my writing.’ Category

So my next novel is going to be named ‘Through the Smoke’ and it is in fact the second book in “The End of Tomorrow’ Series. If you haven’t taken a look at the first book it’s called ‘The Bomb and the Cage’ and you can find it here.

Also don’t worry about a spoiler alert if you haven’t read ‘The Bomb and the Cage’ yet.

Last but not least, it is still a work in progress, it has yet to be proofread or edited. This is just the first draft. I hope you enjoy! Please take the time to leave a comment about what you thought.


The End of Tomorrow

Through the Smoke

Chapter 1

09/19/2004 1215 Hours

Amanda Reynolds

                I awoke to a loud banging sound coming from my front door. I quickly put on a shirt and pair of jeans. I passed my child’s room as I stumbled to the front door, I couldn’t see if she was up because I was still wiping the sleep from my eyes; this night shift was taking its toll on me. Right as I got to the door the noise stopped. Then just as my hand touched the cold metal door knob there was screaming from the other side of the door. I stepped back a moment, shocked then I looked through the peep hole. Through the tiny hole all I saw was the world through a red tint. I backed away from the door. The pounding started again. I picked up my house phone and dialed 911; a busy tone filled the line.

“What is going on?” I ended my call and redialed it to the same results.


This is that moment that you wish you had a gun. I could hear my baby girl; Terri in the other room screaming now, the noise from outside had finally disturbed her. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded. I worked the night shift at a convenience store less than two miles away. Every night I would take Terri who was ten months old to my parents. They watched her while I worked and in the morning I would have breakfast with my mom who was recently retired and talk about life.


Lately there was a lot more to talk about than normal. I had moved into this apartment with my husband Jordan, and daughter several months ago. After only a month of living here the fighting became too much for him. Jordon left me, and left me with this two bedroom apartment that I couldn’t afford since I didn’t work. Luckily, my parents helped me make my rent for the first two months, until I got a job at the gas station. The gas station didn’t pay me enough for rent and childcare but with my parents helping out watching Terri and the overtime I was getting it was enough to keep the roof over our heads, the power and water on, and food in our bellies. Sometimes you just have to do the best you can with whatever God gives you.


My parents wanted me and Terri to move back in, but I wanted my independence. However, at this current moment as the pounding grew harder I desperately wanted to have taken them up on their offer. The crying was growing louder as I pressed my body harder against the door. ‘Why didn’t I have a gun in my home?’ That should have been the first thing I did after Jordon left. I should have went straight down to the gun store and bought myself a shotgun or something. My parents had a gun. But instead I had a phone that was no use.


Then the door busted down. I was thrown against the wall and pinned there as several people ran inside. They didn’t even see me behind the door as they ran to by baby’s room. The smell of burning came in through the open door. There were a total of three of them. They all looked strange how they ran to the bedroom. Something, besides breaking into my apartment, was off about them. I ran just behind the last one.

“Get out of my home!” It completely ignored me, as if under a spell. I jumped on his back. I wrapped my arm around his throat and it slipped around smearing what felt like oil around my bare skin. He fell to the ground. The other two continued on their path busting the door to my child’s room. I screamed at them again. The one who I had just fought to the floor turned around. What was left of his face stared at me. He was missing one of his eyes and the flesh that should have been attached to his face making his nose and jaw line looked like it had been ripped away. He started to bite at me as I struggled to get away. I pressed my body against the wall as I pushed him away with my bare feet. There was the sound of screeching coming from my baby.


It’s amazing what the sound of your child in pain can do to you. I jumped up and ran into the room. To say I was too late was an instatement. They were holding my child between them, a man and a woman. Both were tearing at my poor child, who was now unresponsive. I looked away to the crib which was now in pieces. The sheet was smothered with blood. I saw a piece of wood that was broken and had a sharp edge. I took it and rammed the piece of wood into the man’s head through his ear canal. He fell lifeless to the floor. I pulled the piece of wood out and grabbed my child by the leg as the woman started biting into her neck and face. I smashed her on the head with the piece of wood. Tears started to roll down my face. My baby, my little angel was dripping, pouring with blood.

“Let go of her! Let go!” I hit her again with the piece of wood. She dropped the lifeless baby and came towards me. I forced the piece of wood into her mouth. She looked at me and for a moment everything around me stopped, as we stared into each other eyes, with her grey lifeless eyes.


I bent down and picked up my baby. The lifeless body was missing an arm and skin around her face. She barely resembled my child. She was no longer the smiling happy baby. Now she was dead. I held her close to me and cried, but even in this moment I didn’t get time to grieve as I felt the grasp of something pulling me down by my shoulders. I rolled away releasing my child to the floor. As the last intruder continued to bite at me I searched blindly for something, anything that could kill it. My fingers stumbled upon a piece of metal that once held the crib’s bed. I stabbed the man with it in his stomach region, and there was no response. Even after I felt it go completely through there was nothing. I pulled it out and rammed it forcefully into his mouth in an upward motion, shattering teeth as it struck. I pushed harder and penetrated the roof of his mouth and he finally ceased his attack and stopped moving.


I pushed the body off of me and left the room, there was nothing left for me in here. I heard the sounds of yelling and when I looked outside I saw a van parked near where Ted lives. If there was anyone who could help me right now it was Ted. When I ran outside I saw more of those things. I ran to the van as it pulled away. I didn’t see anything but that van. Then three men stepped in front of me blocking me from them.

“Please! Help me! My Baby!” was all I could get out. The van stopped. Ted exited the back door with a gun in his hand. He raised it and fired. It stuck one and blood splattered and it fell down to his knees. He fired a second time and fired. The second shot hit him and his head exploded and I felt pieces of him splash onto my face. He ran behind the other and forced the gun to the side of his head and fired. I screamed and he grabbed me and pulled me towards him.

“Snap out of it!” He yelled at me.


There was a man standing just outside the van. He was shooting past us. I didn’t want to know, I didn’t want to look. Ted pulled harder and I started to run. I ran until I was at the van. Ted and the man got inside and closed the door as we sped off, as we drove out of my nightmare.



Like I said in the title this is a work in progress it’s about 1/8 through in the writing and still requires editing and proofreading. Enjoy and let me know what you think so far 🙂 – Eugene

Automatic Breathing

Chapter 1

I have been tired of living for a long time. I hated the automatic urge to breath, I wish I could just go to sleep and never wake up. Suffocate in my soft, comfortable bed, alone. No gun or bullets needed. No bottle full of pills with names I can’t pronounce. No bloody mess that might stain the carpet, my landlord would hate to have to rip up the carpet. That light brown Berber carpet that they swore was brand new when I moved in, brand new and smelled of cat piss in all the corners. I bet Peggy, that bitch at my apartment complex would clean up the mess herself. Tell the next tenet that moved in it was new carpet too. I bet she would tell my wife Amy who I never got around to divorcing that she would need to pay for the carpet to be replaced. Maybe a bullet to the head wasn’t a bad idea. Hell maybe I should do a hundred pushups to get the blood really flowing, then take a few brand new razor blades to my arms and legs and cut myself so deep I squirt blood out like a fountain from all my limbs. Then run around the apartment spraying everything with my A+ blood, my staining, A, Positive, blood. On hard surfaces it takes a 1/10 ratio of bleach and water to clean up blood. You need to get it right after it starts to coagulate. That is really the best time. You use a dustpan and sweep the jell-o like blood into the dustpan then dump it into a nearby toilet; this simple trick saves on the costs of bio hazard disposals. Once most of the blood is up you take a mop and clean up the rest of the blood with the 1/10 bleach. Don’t forget to throw away that mop; you don’t want your friend blood borne pathogen coming to pay you a visit.

Life can make you crazy. The mundane can make you scream for something different. It can make you cut your wrist a few inches below the bend in your arm at some mental hospitals the patients call that ‘The golden triangle’. ‘The Golden Triangle’ can be cut almost an inch deep before you risk bleeding to death, don’t try this stuff at home kids. You can order pizza and bleed into a cup. Pour the real blood down your face to greet the pizza delivery driver. If I hadn’t been bored then I would have ordered for pick-up and just drove the half mile down the road to get the pizza. Not having to get dressed for maybe ten minutes outside was worth the two dollars extra for a tip to stay home. Pizza delivery drivers don’t care if you come out in your boxers, all they care about is a big fat tip for making you feel special for two minutes, make you feel like they drove all the way from the pizza place to your home just for you, little do you know, there are five other peoples orders getting cold in their car. Just like everything in life it’s a sham, a fake, a phony. You are not special. You are the same living, breathing, hurting, mundane being as the next, except for those five seconds when you greet that pizza delivery guy covered in your own blood.

I wasn’t always like this. At one point I had a normal boring job, a wife, a home, and a car I made payments on. I complained like every single human on earth did about my electric bill and the price of gas going up. I signed up for extra shifts at work to help pay for my wife to get her hair and nails done. I was a zombie once, unaware that my life was ending slowly, I wasn’t living it for me. All of the years working at a crap job, a job that never gave me a sense of accomplishment. I would drive there in my Mini Van, the kind of vehicle that you have to leave your balls at home before you get in. It would take an hour to drive to work, because my wife didn’t like the city. Once I got to work at ‘Printing Questions and Answers’ I would sit at my cubical and wait for the phone to ring. I would wait for someone who was in a rush, a rush to get their tiny little problem fixed. My job was to make them feel like they weren’t like a thousand people before them, that they were special. The number one fix to most printing problems, put in paper. The next fix was to plug in the printer. These people would thank me after I fix their simple problems and I would hang up on them. I had streamlined the whole process by answering the phone

Hello, thank you for calling Printing Q and A, this is Robert speaking, have you checked that your printer is plugged in and filled up with paper?” I always knew if that was their fix. Sometimes they would pause then ask an off the wall question,

Do you sell printers in other colors?” My supervisors loved me for this idea, if love was giving me a pat on the back every morning when they passed my cubical. Truth is I had been living a lie for a long time. I was blinded by the ease of my job and the fake love and friendship that surrounded my everyday life. That was until the day I met a very strange man named Chad Norris. Maybe I’m going to far back. Maybe I should go back a few days ago.

Chapter 2

I looked out the shattered window of the box truck that rested on its right side. The moonlight reflected off the broken glass on the asphalt road. My head was hurting and I could taste the copper taste of blood in my mouth. What a day. I reached around my waist looking for the seat belt release. My hand grasped it and depressed the button. There was a clicking sound. The seat belt released me and I began to crawl out of the mess. I couldn’t even feel the shards of glass cutting my body as I crawled through it. I could see headlights coming from a distance, it was late at night and I knew this would probably be the only ride I was going to get. The white sedan pulled up and quickly turned on their hazard lights, the Good Samaritan. It was an early twenty white male who was wearing a white shirt with the words ‘Pizza Man’ on it and tan shorts.

Whoa, what happened?” He said in a surfer tone. What part of the States am I in? Truth was I couldn’t even figure out how all this happened, all I knew was I needed to get out of here before the police showed up to do an accident report. Department of Transportation would search the cargo for record purposes. Then The Federal Bureau of Investigations would be sitting me in an interrogation room asking me questions I couldn’t answer about the cargo. They would want to know how all those dead bodies got in the back of the box truck. They would want to know names, to identify for next of kin, and to charge me with all these murders I didn’t commit. I was not about to spend the rest of my life living in a cell because of Chad Norris. Poor Chad Norris the man of mystery, master manipulator, psychopath, and lover. He was everything I feared, and he looked so damn helpless. He used me until it was too late for me to turn around and leave. Hell if it wasn’t for this sudden crash I would still be in that truck heading east looking for another victim in another town. I asked the surfer pizza delivery driver for his cell phone. I saw the car was still running behind him. I walked towards him grinding my teeth in pain, my knee was really hurting. I don’t think it was broken, maybe sprained.

I don’t know how I crashed but my friend Chad was driving and he’s nowhere around.” I said while taking the cell phone from his hands.

Let me get my flashlight in my car and we can shine it around while we wait for an ambulance.” He retrieved his flashlight from the car and started shinning it around. I pretended to call 911 using his phone. I waited till he was next to the trucks window where I had just crawled out of. I got into his car and took off. I couldn’t had picked a better car to steal, on the passenger seat was a full tank of gas, two meat lover pizzas, a two liter of Coke, and almost a full pack of Cigarettes.

This is my second book and first novel. You can buy it for Kindle for $2.99 at

Apartment 23A

 Chapter 1 03/15/2007

I was lying down and felt the tingling of cool grass on the nape of my neck. I looked up towards the sunny sky shattered with fluffy Cumulus clouds. There was the faint sound of crying, screaming deep in the background. The sound grew louder and I sat up. I was on an embankment along a well kept lake. A large wooden dock was maybe ten feet ahead of me attached to the shore. The dock was made of a dark wood and looked to be well built. Each plank going the length of it was perfectly aligned. The railings on the side were supported with large poles that I assumed went deep into the water. A preteen age boy dressed in blue and red race car pajamas was standing half way down. The boy held his arms at his sides and he was screaming. I got up. Out of instinct I ran to him. As my right foot touched the wood he was pulled quickly backwards by something I could not see. As he was pulled farther from me the sun dropped and it became dark. I came to a stop just before falling off the end of the dock. I looked over the edge but I couldn’t see the boy, only darkness. Headlights appeared in the water and I became scared and fell backwards. I turned around facing the shore as I got up. I saw that the dock was on fire. The flames stretched towards the sky and held there place just before the shore. I turned back around towards the headlights, they were gone. I could hear the wood crackling and I knew there was no way for me to stop the fire. I needed to get off before it collapsed. I leaned over the edge getting ready to jump when the arms of a woman came out of the water. Her hands were as hot as Arizona’s asphalt in the middle of July and they pulled me into the dark abyss.

I woke up on my living room floor. The hard Berber carpeting felt like gravel. The blades of the ceiling fan above me moved slowly as if moved by hand. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and felt grime. I looked at my hands and saw that they were covered with dirt. So much in fact, that when I got up using the side of my couch I left dirt behind everywhere my skin touched. I would regret that later when I had to clean it up. I walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror at the dirty young male that looked like the world had beaten for the past twenty five years. I turned on the faucet and washed my hands and arms off.

“What has happened to me?” I examined my clothing; my dark black undershirt was covered in soil. I took it off and saw several bruises on my chest. I was losing a lot of weight. I once was a healthy two hundred and twenty pounds, I was pushing one hundred and eighty pounds and it showed. I felt like I was having an outer body experience, seeing myself for the first time in weeks. This wasn’t me, I wasn’t the violent or clumsy type, and how could I get these bruises? It had to be this place, or maybe it was the stress of the divorce. My only love leaving me.

I need a vacation. I’ve needed a vacation since that morning at my now ex mother-in-law’s home. I remember eating a bite of scrambled eggs with onions and cheese on a homemade biscuit. I was about halfway through chewing my second bite when I looked up at my wife. Her mom talked on the telephone behind her to some telemarketer while making herself a plate. My wife looked up at me with those eyes that were already dead to me. She opened her mouth and said,

“I don’t love you anymore Robby, I want a divorce.” The way Sam spoke those words sounded like they had been hanging on her lips ever since that night of partying at a local bar. The night she had a little too much to drink. That night when an older man, the one she’s been sleeping with for two years, took her home and screwed her, the night she broke our wedding vows.

I looked at her and a million things screaming inside. I thought about the night I asked her to marry me. I thought about the vows we made and all the opportunities I had to leave her. Most of all, I thought about how I wanted to rip her face off, to bash her head into the table until her whore face looked like the scrambled eggs on my biscuit. It wasn’t easy finding out that you had wasted ten years of your life at twenty five. Some people say you never waste time loving. Sure but if you loved reading a book and in the end everything suddenly fell apart and the end was terrible does that make it a masterful book? Some people said to me “Robert you can move on and find another woman, maybe even a young eighteen year old woman.” Maybe I could, I could sleep around, date, and play the field. After all, I didn’t have any children. But I didn’t want to sleep around, I wanted revenge. I wanted Samantha to feel the way I did at that exact moment for the rest of her life.

I decided to take a shower to get the rest of the dirt off me. I turned the water on and I brushed my teeth. Before I finished brushing the steam had fogged up the mirror. I drew a smiley face and jumped in the hot shower. I felt the heat on my body like the hand from my dreams had felt, just not as intense.

“What was that?” I finished showering and I started to feel tired again. That was the positive thing about hot showers for me. Looking at my wrist watch I saw that it was three P.M. so I slipped into bed still a little damp. I closed my eyes and thought about how I needed to be at work by eleven P.M. for another long night of the graveyard shift at a job I hated. Pulling my oversized pillow against my damp body I slowly drifted off to sleep, this time I didn’t wake up dirty or tired.

Chapter 2

I opened my eyes, lying in my bed. It felt muggy in room. I looked over at the large mirrored reflection of myself. The bedroom in my one bed one bath apartment had two sliding doors on the closet. Each door was a large mirror. It was a reminder of how alone I was. This was how life was now. Every night I worked was always the same. I would get up with just enough time to heat up a bowl of ramen noodles in the microwave. Choose from the various flavors, none of which were my favorite, place it on the counter and proceed to beat it with my fist until the noodles were broken up to allow easier eating on the way to work. I then would take the broken noodles, put them in a bowl, and fill it with water. Since I wasn’t making ramen noodle soup it didn’t matter how much water I put in. After I heated it in the microwave for a few minutes I would take the bowl out and slowly drain the water in the sink. I didn’t use a strainer so this was in fact harder than it sounds. Once sufficient water had been drained I would mix in half of the seasoning pack and a single pack of that spicy mustard you get at Chinese restaurants.

I went back into the bedroom and put on my hospital security uniform. The uniform was a white shirt which had a stain from where I spilled coffee a few nights earlier and a pair of gray slacks. The type of footwear was optional. I would wear either black no-slip tennis shoes or black army boots. I felt the boots looked far more professional. However the tennis shoes were comfortable. I considered my boots even though I didn’t care about the rest of my appearance or my job. When I picked them up I saw they were caked with mud, so I put on my tennis shoes. I took the ramen noodles and grabbed a fork and ran out the door. I’d eat them on my way into work, maybe even stop at Circle K for a soda.

I made it to my post at the hospital by fifteen to eleven. I entered the emergency waiting room. The room was a good size, painted an off white color with light green colored linoleum flooring. There were dark green benches that lined the room with end tables between them. Each table had a handful of year old magazines laid across them. An old 27” tube television hung in the corner of the room. A desk, with a red phone on it with a sign informing you to dial a number to a receptionist, sat on the right side of the room. Along the same wall were two windows one said Triage and the other Check In. At the end of the two windows there was a hallway where the security office was nestled in the dark with one way mirrored glass. It was across from the registration desks. One supervisor from each shift normally sat in the office staring at the women who worked in registration. All of the employees who worked in that department were women except for one male who was a homosexual, so I guess in the end you could call him a woman too, just not born one.

If you played your cards right and found the proper balance between sucking up and doing your job you could get a sweet gig working the emergency room half a night and ICU the other half. It was only sweet because the nurses in both units were almost all single and pretty. Even the nurses that weren’t single you could sleep with, if you didn’t have morals. From what I’ve been told having never been with a nurse, nurses are all freaks. If you didn’t like being an adulterer or sleeping with women you work with while at work there was always the Emergency Room. If a woman came in to the emergency room alone and you showed her the right amount of concern and thoughtfulness sometimes you could get her number. I however had not been finding the perfect balance with my supervisors nor did I give a shit, this is how I ended up with the worst gig, outside grounds.

“Jackasses” I whispered under my breath as I looked at the coffee pot in the office. Phil my supervisor and Ben a co worker had only made enough coffee for two cups. This was an everyday thing now. It was as if I wasn’t there at all. This is how it had been since Ben replaced Eugene. He was my only friend; this made him my best friend by default.

“Robert, are you doing okay?” Phil said looking up from his desk. There was silence. “I’m just a little concerned is all? What with the wife leaving and having to move.” Extra emphasis placed on the word move. “If you ever need to talk about anything, don’t hesitate to come by here.” I thanked him and told him that if I needed to talk I’d come by, it was a lie. What difference did it make to talk to him about my problems? It wouldn’t get me off the bad boy list (the list that the hospital put employees on for calling off or coming in late). It wouldn’t return my normal life that I missed. I would still have to work half a shift outside by the employee garage and half a shift watching the construction site where the new cancer center was being built. I couldn’t even get second half employee garage when all the nurses and doctors were coming in to stay their day, I got the shift where if I don’t open the gate fast enough for their busy lives they would honk their horns. The average surgeon makes between $267,638. and $363,246., find the middle ground which is $315,442., and divide this by twenty six for each bi weekly paycheck, then by eighty hours to find their hourly rate. Divide again by sixty and it comes to $2.52 a minute. So for that thirty seconds that I fell asleep in my booth and held up three surgeons from going home I cost them each $1.26, so much for free parking. Over the course of a year if they worked a hundred and eighty days it would be $226.80 each.

There was a loud honking, again. I looked back and saw a bright red Chevy SS Camero, Dr Roberts. He had gotten dropped off in front of the gate about ten minutes ago by a woman that was not his wife. She was driving a dark SUV that he most likely bought for her. He did this about three times a week. I assumed that he’d told his wife he had to stay late. I figured they probably met outside the hospital and he would go with her, do his thing, then when he was done go home and kiss his wife and kids, husband of the year award winner right there. I waved at him and told him to say, “Hi” to the misses. He ignored me like always. That’s okay, one day all the money in the world won’t be able to buy him a ticket out of hell.

By the way the moon hung above I could tell it was late, or was it early? I must have been asleep for awhile. I couldn’t remember the last time I slept like a baby. All the peaceful dreams were gone. They were replaced by nightmares again. What had become of me? The only time I didn’t have the dreams was when I slept at work, and I knew that would change. The dreams were like monsters following me wherever I went; they hung above me like guilt. I carried this beast everywhere. I knew I was suffering, I knew divorce is hard no matter how many times you run through it in your mind. No matter how many lists of pros and cons you make. Divorce is terrible, it’s so unnatural. It feels wrong, it can make you stop eating, and divorce can make you go crazy if left unchecked. Life as you know it is no longer the same, for better or for worse, till death do us part.

I stepped out of the small shack that I sat at to control the gate. I lit up a cigarette, Marlboro Red. I took a long drag and wished I had a cup of coffee. “Assholes” I said softly. I turned and blew the smoke towards the cars I would never be able to afford. I thought about the applications I had filled out, Basic Recruit Law Class 0311. We were all going to be successful law enforcement. What had I made of myself since becoming eligible to be a police officer you might ask, nothing. I am still using that weekend certificate that I paid $86 for. The weekend class where they talked about what Security Officers could legally do. There wasn’t any form of defensive tactics or firearm training, it was a joke. The Law Enforcement Certificate that I had went to class for ten long months, the class I took while I worked the graveyard shift here, and the one that finally broke the camel’s back with my marriage, it just hung on the wall in a frame. That certificate haunted me in the background. It was so important to get, it was so hard to get, but it still couldn’t get me a job as a cop, heck I couldn’t even keep my house.

Sometimes I thought about burning the certificate, placing the ashes in a jar and throwing that jar at my soon If she had her way ex wife. The thought was border line crazy, or maybe it was just plain crazy, maybe I was crazy. Maybe I was crazy like people said Ms Brenda was. Poor Ms Brenda, she stayed in the apartment next door. She was a much older woman, if I had to guess I’d say she was in her late 50’s early 60’s. She lived alone, I had heard she was once married and had kids but those joys were long gone, taken from her probably before I was born.

I was apartment number 23B and she lived in 23A. I had only seen her a few times since moving out there. I believed it had a lot to do with working nights, maybe when I settled in I should invite her over for dinner, or maybe I should leave her alone. When I signed my lease I asked about the neighbors near me. The woman, Ms Peggy had told me that I was in a pretty quite section. The apartment was at the end that nestled Kurt Street which led to a local technical school for nursing and a few short certificate programs like welder or daycare aids. There wasn’t much else down that road besides a concrete company. The large company trucks didn’t use Kurt Street on my end because they took another road called Sunny Side which took them out to the main road. If you took Kurt Street two blocks East there was a shopping plaza that had a outlet store that sold just about everything at low discounted prices, a video store, a few different places to eat, and a pawn shop. The plaza was off of the main road Highway 441, if you made a right when you got to the main road and went another two blocks there was another plaza with a grocery store, a few sports bars, a clothing outlet store, and a few other knickknack stores. There was everything a single guy like me needed within a few blocks from my apartment. My rent was cheap and the gas money I could save by walking made paying the bills a lot easier. It wasn’t a bad life, just a lonely life.

You can find a link to buy this book on Kindle for $.99 at



Our attire gives people many different opinions about ourselves, some right and some wrong however, a loaded chrome plated double action .357 snub nose revolver pointed in your face on the other hand always meant the same thing, death. Here I stood, me and this silver beast, waiting for the first move. A bullet can travel from the cylinder to target faster than I could blink, and I wasn’t blinking. There was a man holding the gun. He held it with such force, held with anger. His grip was high and tight on the back strap with just a third of the tip of his index finger on the trigger. This man who stood before me had held a gun before. Even the simplicity of holding a gun in your hand could give off small clues as to who was holding it. It was hard to focus on him because of the tunnel vision that forced me to look down the barrel of the gun, as if placed on a spell. He held it so still as if it was weightless, suspended in time. For a moment time stopped, I screamed inside ‘what is he waiting for!’ His wrist dropped and his finger twitched. The cylinder turned clockwise as the hammer went back. Then cylinder snapped into place and the hammer fell against the primmer on the bullet. The powder ignited and the .357 round was propelled down the barrel. As the bullet exited the barrel, the revolver raised up catching the sun just enough to shine in my eyes. The bullet penetrated my stomach, a fatal wound if not treated quickly. My legs buckled. I lost my balance and fell slightly forward landing onto my knees. I leaned forward grapping my stomach as blood poured out of the wound like a hole in a bag full of water. The blood soaked my black undershirt and I could taste it in my mouth. I clinched my jaw and tried to fight through the pain. I got one last look at my attacker as he forced the hot barrel of his gun into my mouth. Then the darkness took over.



My throat was an unbearable desert. My lips stuck together, ripping when I slowly separated them. I opened my eyes while wiping the crust away with my hands. Where was I? I looked around the small room from the bed that rested in the center of the room. I was in a hospital room. The walls were a light green color, the color I would imagine the green giant would paint his child’s room. There was a four inch boarder of wallpaper which was maybe two shades darker that ran the along the ceiling all the way around. A plastic guard rail which was about eight inches wide, bordered the room at waist height. The bed had white sheets which were neatly made and a dark green blanket that was folded at the foot of the bed and the loose ends were tucked in tightly. To my right there was a large window with the curtains separated by four inches in the center letting in warm sunlight that made a pyramid on the floor that crept to the door on the other side of the room. To my left there were several medical devices along the wall and a blood pressure machine that was on wheels so that it could easily be moved from room to room. There was a small cart next to it with a brown hard plastic tray of food that had not been touched. The lid rested on next to the tray revealing what looked to be a small meat patty with two slices of toast and a corn, carrot, and green bean mixture, it did not look to be appealing.