grinning in the dark

You thought he was dead, but there he is, right in front of you on the street, smiling at you. You wonder if he was ever dead to begin with. It was a closed casket after all. He removed his bulletproof vest, it hit the ground, like a satchel of gold bars, it was smoking, from the bullet holes. He never wore his vest. Yet, he wore it to the supermarket, of all places. You have so many question, which you could tell would go unanswered, as he raised his gun towards you.

Lightning cracked like a mirror as thunder followed with the rumble of seven years bad luck; he was gone. Shaken, you fumbled with your car keys almost dropping them. You quickly unlocked your car door and got inside. The shriek and shudder of the lord of storms cause you to throw your per-verbial popcorn everywhere; hyping your shattered nerves you are unable to put the keys in the ignition and they clinked, like shackles hitting the floor.

Once your frayed nerves repair themselves you were off and out of there. The rain dribbling, when not right out pounding down on the car, like a rhythm drum; the road was saturated with a fog, the kind you would expect Jason to be pursuing his latest victim in. Crackling again, the lightning and its dancing partner reveal, the figure of your friend, right in front of you, causing you to spin out of control and hit a stop sign.

You unsnap your set belt and look around you. You cannot see him. But there is no way you are getting out of this car just incase. It wasn't too badly damaged. In-fact, you might even be safer here than outside of your car. In your shock you forgot about modern technology. You should have already called 911 when you first got in the car.

You dial the phone and you wait but before anyone could pick up and as you were looking around the front of the car for him, there was a sudden flash of lighting and you could see him in the back seat smiling at you. You totally freak, running out the functional door and dropping your phone as someone picks up; you are too scared to even care at this moment.

Realizing, just short of being able to do something about it you remember about your cell phone only to turn around and see him stomp on it. You have come to terms that your friend is some sort of apparition, but what rules is he playing by? It feels to you he might be breaking some of them. You both stand still looking at each other. Slowly you and him start to unconsciously posture to intimidate each other.

You locked eyes, which was, one of the more idiotic things you had ever done in your life. His eyes were like a trickling stream in the moonlight, populated by wispy phantasms, from comical to horrifying. Crack! boom! He was gone but the effects of the eyes lingered as you stared into space, hypnotized, trying to decode the sideshow you just saw.

Suddenly you flipped out your gun, lollygagging a little, recovering from a touch of true shattering bone, like a meat locker in a frost giants home. It came from behind you and you spun around so quickly you got a little dizzy, aimlessly firing a few shots. The rain had subsided and so did he it seems.

You put your gun back and pullout your flask, for these types of experiences. The ones you can not rationalize in a sober fashion. How is being drunk is going to make any kind of sense out of this. Makes about as much sense as this entire situation. But it is what you are going with.

Shit, you just realized that the 911 call might have come through and they could be on their way. your car crashed, alcohol spicing up your breath. Fuck, you said a few times looking at the gun in your hand still smoking.

Your reality began to spin, to the point where you almost shared your lunch with the world. When you finally came to, all of your six sense, they all felt like they had stepped aside. You were in a supermarket around midnight pointing your gun at your friend.

There were words between you to that you could not put together but the body language was clear. He was raising his arms. Attempting to calm you down. You started to talk about betrayal. And actions he claimed had nothing to do with him. You had never felt anything like this before like you are a bystander in your own body; it was terrible.

You were strong to your convictions, took a big breath and fired into the core area of the body, knocking him into one of the isles and causing a chain reaction you had not thought through. The chain reaction was so bad you fled the scene without making sure you finished the job off. As you fled you saw your face in the mirror, which the puppeteer was to busy to notice.

It was not your reflection, I mean it was not his reflection reflected, on the mirror. The police had arrested and sentenced the wrong man. An innocent mans life had been ruined. If your friend died then his murderer was going to go free and there was nothing you could do about it.

Not again, rolling more then just your eyes as the grocery store spun around like a house caught in a tornado. Your senses shifted back and were locked in their compartments. With a massive flash and a back braking explosion which was in tune with your incessant vomiting.

You were surrounded by people. they helped you up. They must have responded to the call. In your dizzy attempt at explaining that they had the wrong man. They thought you were talking about yourself.