Standing in the kitchen his ears missed the sound of the falling china; his hand no longer felt the cold metal of the gun. All his body and mind perceived the flow of his own blood and the sight of someone else's. What had happened who could have convicted such an act?
Falling into the chair behind him he tried to remember the last few seconds no familiar atmosphere, was this his house? Was this where he forced the last three years of his life to fall? The man on the floor was unfamiliar yet through all the veils of blood and hate he found a memory. Laughing, who had been laughing, he remembered beauty.
Silence was broken by the bickering of red and blue lights; sound rushed into his ears and fell heavy on every part of his mind. No shock, no confusion, just the knowledge that he couldn't have stopped what had happened only she could have.
He hadn't noticed it earlier but now he saw a small woman almost a girl in appearance. He remembered now that it was her laughing in his thoughts. Looking at her now he saw no joy lift to her, only a shell of guilt and self-loathing.
He had not pulled the trigger, should he have? Is one life worth another? Blood was drying on her soft nightshirt as the police took her away almost having to carry her.
He looked down at his friend forcing himself to remember the last few days. Yes this man had been a friend but was he still, could he be remembered as one in future stories of fun and laughter.
He put the gun on the table and went to the man's side, yes he was a man even after the lies and even the ceffair he was still a man, and a friend.
He slid the wedding ring off his finger and placed it on the table as he walked out of the house onto the porch. The cool wind engulfed his trench coat; the night air filled his lungs with each breath.
A tall man in a uniform approached him and he realized it was time to tell the truth. No more lies for the sake of appearance
"Sir can you tell me what happened?"
"As best as I can."
STORY II
I know this is supposed to be a fiction story, but it may not turn out to be fiction since I know this will happen. I guess you could consider it fiction, since the setting is in the future. This story is my life in five years.
I walk into my apartment, the door is unlocked and there are papers and clothes scattered all over the floor. Oh my gosh! I've been robbed! I turn around and begin to run to my neighbor for help. Oh, wait, I stop in my tracks and walk back to my apartment door, this is how it always is, I left it this way. I laugh silently to myself and continue to walk in, stepping on my stuff. I drop my things on the floor and walk to my desk, which is exceptionally neat and clean. There sits my open notebook and a pencil. I sit down and begin to write a new story, I do this every day, because you never know when a story might turn out to be a best seller. I usually write a short story everyday, but today my mind is racing with ideas. I continue writing, this story is definitely going to be a long one. I finally look up from my notebook and notice it's dark outside, I've been writing for five hours! Holy moly! Ack! I have a date with Andrew tonight! I look awful! I quickly fix my hair and straighten myself out and rush to the door. "Hey, can you hold on just one minute? I've been writing this story, I just need to email it to that Jupiter Dude and see if I can get it posted on his website!"
Andrew looks at me blankly, "You really think it's that good?"
"I think it might be." I smile excitedly.
"That's great!"
I rush over to my computer and begin to type it out, then I copy and paste it to my email and I hit send. I wait and watch for the message that always pops up: 'Your message has been sent.'