Fan Fiction ❯ 3 Bullets ❯ 3 Bullets ( One-Shot )

A cataclysm of pure agony jutted through my bones. A thought! No thought could cause as much fear as this. I stood in a moment's time walking in the future of yesterday and the shadow of tomorrow. It was not where I walked. A problem such as that can be fixed by the very function that assists in inducing the problem. The only complication was my companion in this walk along the shadows of tomorrow. She lay dead on the ground beside me. The looks of this murder would point all suspicion to me. As I lowered the catapult o the grim to the ground the door that lay before me oened, closing one door of opportunity in escape. Surely they would not understand that I had walked into this mess. I could not be the creator of such a tradgedy no matter how hard I try. The tenant whom I pay tribute to every month walked in to inquire about the ruckus, or so I assumed. In the breaths of time moments before her shrieks of terror my body sent reinforcements to my muscles and brain. As the adrenaline was instantaneously pumped through my body, I began to formulate a plot.

She had not yet processed the magnitude of this disaster, nor had she set eyes on me. As the lungs of time expanded and contracted, my chances of escape drew closer to none. I excavated the last drop of adrenaline and raised the gun. As time breathed further her head slowly rose to make eye contact with the narrow hole punched into the shaft of my gun. As objects rotated and time continued, I pulled the trigger. In the moments before the gun powder ignited, the tenant moved out of the way and my eight year old daughter suffered the full blow of the bullet wound, embedded in her brain. When I turned to fire a shot of vengeance for her actions I realized she was gone. The gun had been loaded with 3 bullets. Now that only one lay in the chamber it appeared as if my end was near. I've lost my wife and daughter and had now decided to eliminate the last member in the family. The occasion had to be just right, and of course it had to be in the clown room. The room was a memory of my daughters past. She had long since moved into the larger room. The feeling of another life presence entered the room as I walked in. In the far right corner of the room lay the breadbox of my daughter's infancy. She laid there most of her infant life. We had no need for a separate cage to burden with a mess of toys. My little girl only enjoyed one device of impulse: the little box that spoke as functions were initiated via cartoon characters. Now though the crib was cluttered with crumbs of amusement. One bauble stood out in particular, a doll. I cringed as I set my eyes on the gun. This was the place, and this was the moment. I put the gun against a soft area of flesh, namely the forehead. As time began to breath I pulled he trigger of the gun. The hammer hit the gun powder, initiating an explosion and forcing physics to take a life, end the legacy of yet another member in my family. I watched on, half in joy, half in terror as the doll leaked blood on the mattress. The world stopped. The breath's of time disintegrated into a world of no tomorrow. The fabrics of society had once again been tampered with. I laughed to myself. I had managed escape from the life I could not live. Neurotransmitters communicated false messaged from dendrite to axon through the synapses of my brain. I smiled. I am not sure where I am supposed to go now, but I know life will bring me challenges. Perhaps the eyes of a sturdy blade will end the beat of yet another heart. What fun is life if you have to be alive to suffer through it?