The End of Remorse and Regret
Streaks of light were able to enter the office, only through the horizontal slips in the metal blinds. Its journey through the room first met Franks left shoulder, then the apparition-like smoke, curtailing away from the ambers of his cigarette, mixed with those coming out of the barrel of nine millimetre Glock, which Frank had just fired.
Gesturing at the hapless corpse on the floor with the gun before setting it down on the mahogany desk, “Are you going to just sit there like him the whole day?”, torrents of smoke pouring out from his nose and mouth, “or do you want me to give you a push like the one I just gave him?”.
Blood was starting to seep and spread on the wooden floor in a circle, originating from the hole of the faced down corpse. Like a wildfire in the middle of a draught ravaged field - it seemed as if it was going to stain the whole floor maroon before running out of texture to paint on; like wildfire in the middle of a draught ravaged field- it seemed unstoppable.
The man across the table from Frank gulped, one could almost hear a whirring noise made by his brain turning, desperately seeking for an answer for Frank’s question, or Frank will be shooting more than just queries in the next few seconds.
After what seemed to be the longest two seconds of his life, he asked, “can I have a cigarette?”. With his index and middle finger Frank reached into his coat pocket, eyes still firmly set on his unrehearsed, suddenly-made hostage, pulled out a soft pack half filled with Marlboros, and lightly flicked it on the other edge of the table.
The man reached for it, while slightly tilting his head towards the floor to have another look at his not-so-fortunate counterpart. Like a wildfire in the middle of a draught ravaged field -The red was still advancing; like a wildfire in the middle of a draught ravaged field- it started from a spark; a spark no bigger than the muzzle flash of the Glock.
Taking two deep puffs as if it were the last two, “look, I’m really sorry we did it wrong, if only there is a way we can repay you...”
“Who is ‘we’?” Frank interrupted, pointing at the corpse under the desk using the two fingers he clenched his cigarette in, “if you’re referring to Roy over there, I don’t think, ‘we’ would be able to repay me...”
Making a case for himself “Well I’ll do it then!” exclaimed the man, still trying to avoid Roy’s fate.
“You and what army?”
“I had Roy before you capped him”, A pathetic attempt to instil the element of fault onto Frank, “now...now I’ll just have to make do with it, you’ve got to trust me! I can do it”
Frank, raising one eyebrow, “Like the last time I’ve trusted you when you said, I could trust you?”
“It will be different this time! I promise!” Begging for Frank’s trust.
Leaning back on his chair, Frank gave an empty stare at the desk for a moment, then said “Alright. Go.”
The man, Very surprised, could not believe what he just heard. He jolted when he tried to leave his chair but stopped for a second just to make sure, in that next second he established that it was safe to leave. “Thank you Frank, thank you, you wont regret this.” He got up and then bolted for the door.
As he placed his hand on the knob, instead of feeling the cold metal on his palms, he felt it in his back. The room had flashed at exactly the same time he felt this weird sensation. He was halfway collapsing to the floor before he realized what had just happened- Frank had shot him in the back. He fell knee first, then tried to look at Frank- he fell sideways to the floor as he did. The room was a blur, although one of the strips of light coming into the room through the slips in the blind landed on eye, it did not hurt, he didn’t squint to its intensity, but half-welcomed it.
Frank becomes a silhouette sitting on the chair, the square desk starts to lose its square edges and Roy’s corpse, suddenly bears his face instead.
He could feel everything around him, its only his vision that is fading out, he could smell the gunpowder, he could feel the ground he was lying on, and he remembered the cigarette Frank had given him- still between his fingers, still alit. But as his blood started to paint a second red circle, it touched the lit part of the joint, snuffing out the amber with an insignificant sizzle, just like a lone twig in the path of a wildfire, in the middle of a draught ravaged field...
Gesturing at the hapless corpse on the floor with the gun before setting it down on the mahogany desk, “Are you going to just sit there like him the whole day?”, torrents of smoke pouring out from his nose and mouth, “or do you want me to give you a push like the one I just gave him?”.
Blood was starting to seep and spread on the wooden floor in a circle, originating from the hole of the faced down corpse. Like a wildfire in the middle of a draught ravaged field - it seemed as if it was going to stain the whole floor maroon before running out of texture to paint on; like wildfire in the middle of a draught ravaged field- it seemed unstoppable.
The man across the table from Frank gulped, one could almost hear a whirring noise made by his brain turning, desperately seeking for an answer for Frank’s question, or Frank will be shooting more than just queries in the next few seconds.
After what seemed to be the longest two seconds of his life, he asked, “can I have a cigarette?”. With his index and middle finger Frank reached into his coat pocket, eyes still firmly set on his unrehearsed, suddenly-made hostage, pulled out a soft pack half filled with Marlboros, and lightly flicked it on the other edge of the table.
The man reached for it, while slightly tilting his head towards the floor to have another look at his not-so-fortunate counterpart. Like a wildfire in the middle of a draught ravaged field -The red was still advancing; like a wildfire in the middle of a draught ravaged field- it started from a spark; a spark no bigger than the muzzle flash of the Glock.
Taking two deep puffs as if it were the last two, “look, I’m really sorry we did it wrong, if only there is a way we can repay you...”
“Who is ‘we’?” Frank interrupted, pointing at the corpse under the desk using the two fingers he clenched his cigarette in, “if you’re referring to Roy over there, I don’t think, ‘we’ would be able to repay me...”
Making a case for himself “Well I’ll do it then!” exclaimed the man, still trying to avoid Roy’s fate.
“You and what army?”
“I had Roy before you capped him”, A pathetic attempt to instil the element of fault onto Frank, “now...now I’ll just have to make do with it, you’ve got to trust me! I can do it”
Frank, raising one eyebrow, “Like the last time I’ve trusted you when you said, I could trust you?”
“It will be different this time! I promise!” Begging for Frank’s trust.
Leaning back on his chair, Frank gave an empty stare at the desk for a moment, then said “Alright. Go.”
The man, Very surprised, could not believe what he just heard. He jolted when he tried to leave his chair but stopped for a second just to make sure, in that next second he established that it was safe to leave. “Thank you Frank, thank you, you wont regret this.” He got up and then bolted for the door.
As he placed his hand on the knob, instead of feeling the cold metal on his palms, he felt it in his back. The room had flashed at exactly the same time he felt this weird sensation. He was halfway collapsing to the floor before he realized what had just happened- Frank had shot him in the back. He fell knee first, then tried to look at Frank- he fell sideways to the floor as he did. The room was a blur, although one of the strips of light coming into the room through the slips in the blind landed on eye, it did not hurt, he didn’t squint to its intensity, but half-welcomed it.
Frank becomes a silhouette sitting on the chair, the square desk starts to lose its square edges and Roy’s corpse, suddenly bears his face instead.
He could feel everything around him, its only his vision that is fading out, he could smell the gunpowder, he could feel the ground he was lying on, and he remembered the cigarette Frank had given him- still between his fingers, still alit. But as his blood started to paint a second red circle, it touched the lit part of the joint, snuffing out the amber with an insignificant sizzle, just like a lone twig in the path of a wildfire, in the middle of a draught ravaged field...
posted by Killl_Roy at 11:04 PM
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