You never meant to find yourself at this place, standing tall above a prostrate person as he sleeps, peacefully, blissfully unaware of the future that waits to strike him down, relieve him of his life. You can’t help but wonder what will happen to him, really, after you blow this bullet through his head. Nothing with regards to the physical toil and toll, obviously, but metaphysically, you wonder; what happens next? How does the final exit unfold? Where does “he” end up?
I like to watch people as they sleep. It’s sort of the best way that I can think of to really get to know a person. Girls, I find, are generally perplexed and overwhelming uncomfortable when I invite them back to my house, not for sex but instead, for the comfort of a sleeping companion. What they don’t know, usually, is that all I really want is to watch them sleep, watch anyone sleep, if I’m being completely honest.
He rustles slightly and then grunts and then snores, and then, all of a sudden, he stops breathing. I wait for a moment to see if he has actually stopped breathing or if this is merely some part of his sleeping pattern. I hold my breath. Eventually, he slowly begins to let out small puffs of air, and by the last small exhalation, he twitches himself awake.
Heavily, it falls, but gently it lies. Pillowed, not so unlike and yet completely dissimilar to the pillows upon which your head rests. You sleep as the snow floats down from high above with messages of fear and self-loathing. When has snow brought anything other than the worst nightmares a person could only dream up whilst fast asleep, unaware, prohibited to act with the conscious, logical mind? Sleep. At peace you must divulge to yourself the truth so that the snow may bring it to life, deliver it down to us here on Earth, and then it melts away to be forgotten forever.
I can see you dream. I can watch your face as it reacts to the pain or the pleasure that your mind conjures for you to feel and see. The gatekeeper sleeps, and so, the king plays hard in a despotic attempt to control what he can, while he can. But you stir, and the king grows angry. A nightmare then, to settle the id into a submissive respect for his majesty.
[same prompt 5X @2MIN]