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second-sight — untitled-chapter 2
Published: 2006-06-07 01:51:09 +0000 UTC; Views: 83; Favourites: 1; Downloads: 1
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Description It was dawn when he finally arrived home. Half of his body too numb from drinking, and the other half simply too tired to get up; he turned of the car, drifted into the sunrise, and slept. Sleep was never an experience he enjoyed; more so a pain he wished would end. It was always the same. The same place, the same colors, the same incognizant sense of danger pulsing through the atmosphere. He was frightened; a lost child in a moonlit forest; the dreaded silence haunting your thoughts, and your imagination running wild, constantly afraid a specter may be lurking in your presence. As he pushed on through the dim, a false sense of direction landed him in the lair of the damned. A place so foul, demons themselves were scared of the dark, and not even angels could find the light. A place of crimson, where ash lie in the air so heavily one would choke on every breath dying a slow painful death of suffocation. Though he was scared he kept silent, creeping on through what seemed to be empty passageways, and willingly yet unknowingly set on deeper into this void. Wait, a door ahead, behind it lay an evil so treacherous one cannot even begin to imagine its –

The phone rang.

“ Hello?” Shane said immediately alert at his sudden waking.

“ Good morning Shane.” Said the voice on the other line.

“Well well well…how nice of you to wake me up during my mid morning nap.” Said Shane sarcastically, clearly annoyed by the nuisance.

“Well enough of the formalizations. Is it done?” Said the voice formally.

“ Of course.” Said Shane in a business-like tone.

“Well then, you have your pay we are done here.” Said the voice, very direct about ending the conversation.

“ I should expect to be hearing from you then?” Shane said expectant.

“ We shall see, wont we?”

They hung up.

Shane was a mercenary. After his friend “disappeared” he found he didn’t want this for his life…he wanted more. He never really felt a sense of nationality while in the military so becoming a rogue merc was easy. Now he ran under his own rules, and if he didn’t want a job he didn’t have to take it. Not that he wouldn’t take it anyway, he loved the lifestyle. The adrenaline rush you get right before the kill, the art of doing so. The tradecraft, the skill involved, and knowing you’re unstoppable. He was the best…and he planned on keeping it that way.  

After struggling for a couple minutes he managed to summon enough strength to get up and out of his car, into his house, and eventually into the shower. The water was cold; he always took cold showers. They woke him up more then any coffee ever could, and besides, he lived in the mountains so finding any way to get running water was hard enough as it was. Sure he could by a heater, but he thought it to be a bad idea. First of all, when he actually had to take a cold shower he’d be completely unprepared. Secondly, a water heater was just one more thing that could explode into a death trap while he was sleeping…that is of course assuming he ever slept…

His house had four rooms: The living room, the kitchen, his bedroom, and the restroom. The walls were made of unpainted wood, and the floors were all made of hardwood, (easier to hear is someone is in the house).
The living room, the only room he was ever really in besides the bathroom, had one wall made entirely out of glass, (bulletproof of course) and had a beautiful view for miles. The thing he liked about it however was that in this endless view he could also see the road. This was the only road that by which you could ever find his house, for it wasn’t on any map. In the living room there were many things. Of course there was furniture; in the center of the room was a tan sofa. On one side of the sofa was a small glass table with a lamp sitting on top of it and on the other side were a few magazines, on top of which sat a few books including some Poe. In front of the sofa was the high-definition TV, and next to it was the entertainment center filled out with CDs along with various disc players, and above it a regular clock. Behind the sofa was a wall of paintings. Some were of people he came in contact with in the past few years, others of places, and others were lonely…a brief reflection of the way he saw the world…

He sat down, turned on the TV, and watched blankly…wondering why in the world people would actually do this for fun. He stared at the clock…watching time go on continuously as he wasted away here, on the sofa, watching something of no appeal at all to him. This is the very reason he wanted more out of his life…he was bored…

The phone rang.
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