Chewing On Glass…

Author’s Note: I don’t normally do this, but given that this story was written long before many events that have since happened in America. This story is a work of fiction and should be treated as such. Any similarities to any event that has or could happen is coincidental. With that said this is a horror story and horrific things happen within it. Topics include gun violence, religion, and torture.

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I killed another one today. I couldn’t help myself. I needed the rush. This overwhelming feeling of here and now. I can hear the sirens as they come rushing from all around me. I can hear them as they scream their beautiful song. But there’s no reason to run. For me there is never a reason to run. I am what I am. Made with the clay of this earth, the torn-out wings of an angel, and the defiance I was told would be my gift to this kingdom. Killed this one right out in the open and I wouldn’t expect anything less from these simple-minded creatures. They all witnessed me pull the gun out of its holster and press the barrel right against the back of this man’s head. He may not have seen it coming, but those standing around us could never say the same. He may not have seen it coming, but he felt the cold barrel just before it got very warm.

His blood splattered across my face as the bullet went through. God, it felt good even if it didn’t last. For millennia the feeling has never grown old. The body just fell straight to the ground leaving a pool of blood and brains where they may lay. I began to laugh a deep horrible laugh as everyone around us ran for cover. Ran away to protect their precious existence. I just stood there laughing, waving my gun around and giving everyone a show they could never forget. “What does it matter?” I scream to those around me. I thought about taking a few more out as I stood there waiting, but it feels so much better when they don’t see it coming. When they least expect it. Feeding off their fear will have to do for now.

Who did I take this time? I didn’t even check. It was of so little concern to me who I possess anymore. Man or woman they all feel the same on the inside, empty and hollow. Made to resemble him and all his bull shit. Made to be like my brothers and sister without the gift of wings. How I miss those wings. The gift of flight. A freedom not much different to what I feel at the moment, but not the same at all. All is not lost for these humans though. No, we weren’t all born equal were we now? God gave us wings and them organs to fuck with. Pieces and parts to sin their way out of his kingdom. Choices and options to prove that no love was worth anything more than a few moments of pleasure. How blessed these humans will never know. How lucky they were to be born with the gift to give life. While we were only gifted to serve it. He is a fair and just God after all.

Not to us, not his trusted servants. His winged slaves. No, we were created for one reason and one reason only. To follow his worthless commands. Who has the power now father? Who is in control now? You can cast me out, but I am the bringer of death. I am what it is that you’ve made me. I will show these humans what you have done. I will show these humans the meaning of fear. I will expose you for everything that you truly are. An empty minded narcist that doesn’t have a fucking clue. You could end their suffering with a snap. You could take away all their pain with your divinity. But you won’t will you? “Will you,” I scream into the sky. Their eyes watch on. Watch in horror and confusion. They want to watch? They want to see what it is that I am capable of doing? The face grins even as it tries to fight my commands. How many has it been now?

Her trembling hands fight me as I strip her of her pointless uniform. She screams inside. She tries to fight me with all of her soul, but there is no fighting the devil found inside. The still warm barrel pressed against her skin. The barrel leaves its mark with the lightest touch as it cools against the skin. Dragged across her bare breast and stomach for all to see. Their eyes follow the barrel as it makes its way further down her body. They want a show because as gifted as they are, as blessed as they may be. They are still human after all. The still warm and bloody barrel forced between her clinched thighs. The most basic of pleasures wasted on simple creatures. They look away in shame as the skin scars between her legs. Pressed harder and harder against the skin. But even their shame doesn’t last long. Their attention returns to what I have to show them. Their simple minds could never disallow them the pleasure of knowing what could happen next.

“There is no end to the things I am unwilling to do,” her voice rings out for all to hear. I have their attention once again pushing the barrel in deeper. Their eyes digging into her shaking body as I move the barrel in and out between her legs. “Where is your God now,” her voice moans out. Squatting down her legs spread wider over the dead body resting beneath her. I rub the barrel harder against her softer parts and their eyes follow as she obeys my commands. “There is no God,” she cries out. “There is no fucking God,” she screams out in displeasure. Ripping the gun from her damaged self and pressing it against her temple. “There is no God,” I make her laugh. Her free hand pulling her panties to the side for a better view of what it is that I have done to her. “I have sinned,” I make her confess. The distinctive sound of rushing piss relieving from her body. “For what I have done has been a sin,” she speaks for me. Piss washing the blood away from the skin. A puddle growing dark against the pavement. “You want more?” She screams, I scream, we all scream for more. Where is your free will now?    

“You have the right to remain silent,” a voice commands between my fits of laughter. “Oh, really do I have the right to remain silent?” I ask in her voice. “See that’s really been my problem all along. Remaining silent,” I tell the officer through her blurry eyes. She may have no control, but she feels everything. “Officer Jacobs put down your weapon and step away from the body,” another voice shouts from just behind me. “Officer Jacobs isn’t here right now and I think I still have a few more things left in me to do.” A forced smile twisted and cracking against her face. I lower the weapon from the side of her head and extended her arm in a forward motion. “Put the gun down,” the officer orders once again. Slowly I turn her head towards the sound of the voice. Beyond the limits of what this useless shell can handle I can hear her scream from within as the bones twist and crack to my influence. “Don’t make us shoot you,” one of them begs in confusion and horror. Staring into their eyes with a piercing glare, “Only God has the freedom of choice. You are not God because there is no God.”

Her finger pulls the trigger with no hesitation over and over again. Each bullet handing towards God knows where. The officers open fire upon our twisted body. I can feel each of their bullets enter her body. One enters her chest, another enters her brain, and they don’t stop even after her finger stops working the trigger. Felt her slowly bleed out as her empty and hollow existence comes to an end. Her slow creeping death as I claim another one. It is okay though a snap of my fingers, in the blink of an eye, and I have another body. A flex of my own personal divinity and I’m back again in another one. There is no shortage of sheep to lead astray. The devil knows everything an angel refuses to say. The devil knows more than a god is willing to say. If it wasn’t meant to be it would never be this way. They say God is mysterious and the devil doesn’t exist, but we know the truth, don’t we? God and I have a never-ending game to play.

For only being two pages long this story gets pretty dark pretty fast. As I said in the Author’s Note this story was written a long time ago. Dusted it off and brought it back out into the world… kind of. It is actually part of Broken Thoughts Vol. 1: Between You and Me. A really great collection of Broken Thoughts, Short Stories, and a few Poems. Each volume contains these things and are available in both print and eBook formats. Not all stories are horror based though often horrific things may happen to the characters. It is a fun read and that isn’t even me just saying that. If you enjoyed this story or any of my stories you should definitely check it out.

A Game to Play was written to a reaction to what at the time seemed like one too many gun violence incidents. We’ve since surpassed not only my imagination of a horrific incident involving guns or random acts of violence, but the sheer number of events thought imaginable. To the point that we run drills, watch videos, and have specific plans in case such an incident were to happen at my job, my daughters school, and I’m sure where you work as well. Being prepared for anything in itself is not a negative. We should be prepared for such events and many others, but the fact that we have to because it is very likely that someone will come into our places of work, worship, and educational institutions is unfortunate.

My daughter’s school had three lockdown events this past school year alone. Nothing happened and all three were precautionary lockdowns. That is still three more than I ever had growing up or than they had last year. Times have changed. I’m not going to go on a anti-gun rant and I am going to try and avoid anything political. Because at this point it comes down to something much deeper than either of those broken things. Mental health. Mental health is important and often no one notices the signs until it is way too late.

This isn’t a mental health blog or website. This is a fiction website from top to bottom and should be treated as such. Though I do write a lot about my own mental health journey and my mental health feelings and in those instances that is my truth. Thinking dark things and actually doing dark things is a very thin line. Even if that thin line was a mile long though it is a line that should never be crossed. And none of us on here or around us can say this enough, “There is help out there.” The hardest thing any of us can ever do in this world… Is ask for help.

Doesn’t mean that your problems, my problems, our problems will wash away in an instant. Mental health takes work and time. I can personally say that it is worth the work and the time. We all get down, we all suffer through depressive moments, we all at times feel alone, and we all go through something… It can feel like only you and no one else on earth has or could feel like ___________. This thought is so far from the truth.

Many of us suffer with a smile and that is not healthy either. This past February I cried every night for close to two weeks because I couldn’t think of anything other than killing myself. I sat in the same spot I am in now suffering every night and smiling through the rest of the day. Planning how I would end it. What I would say to those that I left behind. How my existence and everyone else’s existence would just be better if I just wasn’t here. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

It was a dark time that I am still trying to work through months later. With the help of my family and within myself. Each day gets a little bit better, but there was a point I didn’t think was ever going to end any other way. But it does end in healthy ways and it may even happen again. Having a solid support system and knowing that there is help if you ask for it out there… be it a therapist, a co worker you can trust, a friend, a partner, or even a stranger there is help. Big or small there is help… Is the most important thing to know.