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Beautiful Moon

  Mesmerizing. Yes, that’s the word he would use to describe it. The beautiful moon tonight. Mesmerizing. A huge glittering sphere, arrogantly showing off its beauty to the universe, while at the same time stalking the gestures of each and every inhabitant of the city. It’s white light offered a perfect contrast with the terrifying darkness of the night’s sky. While admiring this spectacle, he couldn’t help but ask himself, why? Why do people waste years chasing futile dreams ,when all they need to do is wait for the nightfall and lift their heads to witness true beauty. True perfection. This made him smirk. Isn’t it funny how one can be a million light years away, yet from his perspective, he felt he could almost touch it with the tip of his finger. Beautiful moon.

  Suddenly, the noise of the car honks down the building snatched him from his thoughts. Fucking hell, if one was to live at the 17th floor in the most expensive side of town, the least he could hope for was to be protected from all the noise. Well, what did you expect? The city is sick. At least that’s what the man speaking in the radio this morning said. A sick city with sick people with a sick government. What a nice way of putting things. No wonder things are turning this way. Well, it’s not as if he cared the slightest. He had always resented the city. People walking across the streets, all next to each other, walking in all kinds of directions, wearing all kinds of clothes, speaking in all kinds of languages. Empty receptacles simply moving because they have to, because they were told to. Hell! Yes, for him, this city was the true form of hell. It had already been a couple minutes since he started standing in front of the window. Times flies quickly when we get lost in whirlwind of our thoughts. He must be careful. After all, he is not supposed to be in this house.

  Step by step, he walked across the long hallway as quietly as possible. If you were in his position, trust me, you wouldn’t want to make any noise either. There were no signs of any stress each time he laid his feet on the grey solid parquet. His eyes had started growing comfortable with the reigning darkness in front of him. He was able to distinguish the dozen grand defined doors aligned across this endless corridor and the huge family portraits framed in fancy wood. He stopped a few seconds to look at one of them. The portrait showed the couple during their wedding, happily holding hands. “Huh, making speeches about poverty but you live in a palace. Original. ” he told himself. Well, at least we know who he won’t be voting for. Each time he passed across of one of the doors, he stopped in front and, with the delicacy of a panther, slowly grabbed the handle to open it. No, this one is not the one he was searching for. This one either. As he continued his path in the search of this chosen door, he felt disgusted from what he was seeing. How could one simple human being need all these doors and all these rooms for his own content. What a waste of space! How disconnected must they be from what’s happening outside their cage. If they had seen what he had seen, felt what he had felt, suffered what he had suffered. Would they see things as he does? Too late to ask himself these questions. There was only little time left. He had come here for a purpose. One he needed to fulfil.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Only three doors were left. He still hadn’t found the one he was desperately searching for. Anyone else might have been terrified by the thought of failing. Think of it, the door leading to their room was yet to come. If he made only one mistake, this all could have been for nothing. But that was not him, he had seen too many things. Life and death, these words lose meaning when your attachment to world collapses. He looked at his watch, 12 minutes left. He had to act. No time to think. He grabbed the handle of the first door on his left and started slowly pushing it. The room was almost empty. No windows. He could only distinguish a large wooden wardrobe , slightly open further on the right side of the room. No sign of what he was looking for. Another disappointment I must say. But just as he began closing the door again, a sudden feeling of cold ran inside his legs immediately stopping him . As if his legs were refusing to move an inch by their own, as if they were telling him he was making a mistake. This intense feeling of chill gradually moved from his legs, to his body and finally to his head, transforming into a tempest of whispers. Voices, ones he had never heard, murmuring with a shrill tone in unison “The gates are open”.

  A few seconds passed, he turned his head towards the wardrobe. It was calling him. He walked towards it with his usual smoothness and as each step he made brought him closer to it, he could see the size of this wooden furniture grow larger and larger. He stood in front of it, he had always been quite tall compared to others but at this particular moment, he felt like a fish in front of a whale. Without hesitation, he grabbed the two handles and cautiously opened the wooden monster. It was really dark evening that night. Who would have thought that such loud and dazzling town could possess such sinister shadows in its core. Let me tell you one thing, no matter how gloomy was the night, how black was the sky, when he finished opening the doors, I saw a grin.

  4 minutes left. The job was done. The first step had been taken. The first step of many, trust me. He started cautiously walking back towards the living room he was before. This son of a bitch was going to disappear, thanks to him. It didn’t look as if he felt any special kind of joy, not particular emotion showed on his face. But inside his flesh, his blood was boiling. He stopped advancing a moment. It had been years since he had felt so alive. This feeling plunged him in the memories of another time, those of another life he lived once. The comforting smell of fried bacon while waking up on a Saturday morning. The horrific cries of a mother’s cries while her husband hits her. What a strange sensation. All these moments he will never live again, always inside his mind. And even though how hard he tries to detach himself from this world of evil, I believe he knows he is still not ready yet. Just a bit more time, then it could be done. But all of a sudden, one final touch came feeding his perfidious sense of nostalgia. One he had almost completely forgotten about after all these years. He had been careful his whole life in order to forget. The sound lasted less than a breath. So quickly, even I forgot how to describe it. Shit, I have it on the tip of my tongue. Ah yes, a gunshot.

  Bang!

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