Monday, June 06, 2005

1st time

[start recording]

It is the alley. Always, every night.

It used to be the whirling shapes of the "gate", but now it is the alley!

I'm looking at it behind the scope of my shaking silenced pistol. Shaking badly as I have never shot at anything other than cardboard figures on the base firing range. Some of them were human shaped, some just round bullseyes. Now, however, I fear it might not only be human shaped.

Shaking gun, staring over it, trying to keep the sight aligned on the mouth of the alley. The flyboy beside me there, sure, calm, steady, not puffing like locomotive (the way I am). Then it's there! At first I make I brand it human, but then the writhing arms, made of cables and darkness, alive in more ways than any flesh ever should be force a change in the coining.

How many bullets do I have? Can't recall. Do I remember how to reload? Nope, too bad.

Start squeezing the trigger. Again, again, again, again, again, again, again... And still it comes, hooded head gleaming with more writhing darkness, shapes not to be seen, not to be named. Echos filling the alley, the flyboy following my suite. Shell casing flying, hitting me, hot.

Still it comes, still we fire, still I scream, still it comes, still I scream, still it...

[end of recording]


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