Exhale
folder
Drama › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
570
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Drama › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
570
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Exhale
Title: Exhale
Note: This was the eigth in a series of self-imposed writing prompts.
Further Notes:Influenced by a character from the film Once Upon A Time In Mexico, but far too far removed to actually be considered fanfic.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Wait.
The sharp buzzing stopped.
He inhaled.
Breathe in.
Wait.
What makes a man a killer?
It starts with the simplest of things.
Tentatively, he raised the weapon.
The dark shape skittered across the thin plastic blinds.
He swung.
Angry buzzing then, and the boy leapt backwards, surprised and embarrassed by the yelp he let out.
The wasp stopped buzzing and settled back down.
Grow the fuck up. He told himself, angrily. It's just a goddamned wasp.
//...But I don't want to kill it.// He thought.
You spineless fucker. Your mom's allergic to them. For all you know, you could be, too. Kill the fucker before it gets a chance to kill you.
He raised the flyswatter again.
Hesitated.
Raised it again.
It was such a simple thing.
Kill it before it kills you.
Kill it before.
Kill it because.
Kill it, though.
He didn't like the ideal of killing. Maybe he could catch it, and let it go outside? …Yeah. Better plan.
Let it be someone else's problem. Leave it in the street, alone, and disoriented, to bother someone else. Then, maybe it would sting someone else. Maybe his mom.
Better plan.
He returned to the window, this time with a thick china cup. Slowly, he tugged on the cord, trying to lift the blinds, but it was no good. One of the hazards of this pre-furnished dump was that neither the windows nor the blinds had been opened in about ten years, and weren't really keen to start up now. Gently, he slid the corner of the blinds aside, and peeked between them to the cobweb-strewn window with it's flecking white paint.
He could see why he had failed in his first attempt. The blinds had obscured the wasp's exact location. There was a two-inch gap between the blinds and the window, and the flyswatter hadn't forced them the distance to smash the little bastard.
He bit his lip. It was all a matter of distance.
Slamming the cup against the cheap glass, hard enough to rattle it, he imprisoned the wasp. It buzzed around angrily, trying to free itself from its cream-coloured prison.
Still chewing on his lip, he forced the edge of the flyswatter under the cup, and across the opening. Careful to keep his fingers away from the portion covering that space, he pulled it away from the window.
The cheap plastic slipped, and the wasp shot out, buzzing furiously and just royally pissed off.
"Shit!" He cried, falling backwards, twisting his ankle as he caught himself awkwardly, falling sideways across the bed. As he fell, his left hand connected with the wasp, sending that frail body up against the wall hard enough to snap.
He wriggled his ankle experimentally, and studied his hand. It was reddened, but the little fucker hadn't managed to sting him after all. Sharp buzzing alerted him to the knowledge that said fucker was, in fact, still very much alive, and quite possibly, more angry than before.
Cautiously, he peered over the headboard of the bed, half expecting it to lunge up with fifty of its friends, like a Donald Duck cartoon, and rip off his face. The wasp lay in a little pile, wings bent, body twitching.
Still alive.
"You stupid Fucktard." He whispered. "I wasn't going to kill you, you sorry bastard. I was just going to toss you outside. ...Let you become someone else's problem, savvy?"
The wasp buzzed again, and he smiled.
"Hey, now, buddy... No hard feelings, yeah? Some times you're the windshield, right? Some times you're the moron to stupid to stay in the fucking cup... " He asked, leaning over to pick up said item.
Still smiling, he brought the cup down hard. The buzzing stopped.
And he hit the wasp again.
(many hours, years, and miles later)
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Wait.
The voices stopped. One man stayed. The other turned the corner, and was gone in the night.
He inhaled.
Breathe in.
Wait.
Listen.
Wrist locked, arm steady, he raised the gun.
The ever-present darkness obscured the fucker's location.
But it was all a matter of distance.
Footsteps crunched across the gravel, crushing the glass he'd thrown earlier.
He fired.
And exhale.
"Breathe the pressure
Come play my game I'll test ya
Psychosomatic addict insane
Breathe with me
Exhale, exhale, exhale..."
-Prodigy, "Breathe"
Note: This was the eigth in a series of self-imposed writing prompts.
Further Notes:Influenced by a character from the film Once Upon A Time In Mexico, but far too far removed to actually be considered fanfic.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Wait.
The sharp buzzing stopped.
He inhaled.
Breathe in.
Wait.
What makes a man a killer?
It starts with the simplest of things.
Tentatively, he raised the weapon.
The dark shape skittered across the thin plastic blinds.
He swung.
Angry buzzing then, and the boy leapt backwards, surprised and embarrassed by the yelp he let out.
The wasp stopped buzzing and settled back down.
Grow the fuck up. He told himself, angrily. It's just a goddamned wasp.
//...But I don't want to kill it.// He thought.
You spineless fucker. Your mom's allergic to them. For all you know, you could be, too. Kill the fucker before it gets a chance to kill you.
He raised the flyswatter again.
Hesitated.
Raised it again.
It was such a simple thing.
Kill it before it kills you.
Kill it before.
Kill it because.
Kill it, though.
He didn't like the ideal of killing. Maybe he could catch it, and let it go outside? …Yeah. Better plan.
Let it be someone else's problem. Leave it in the street, alone, and disoriented, to bother someone else. Then, maybe it would sting someone else. Maybe his mom.
Better plan.
He returned to the window, this time with a thick china cup. Slowly, he tugged on the cord, trying to lift the blinds, but it was no good. One of the hazards of this pre-furnished dump was that neither the windows nor the blinds had been opened in about ten years, and weren't really keen to start up now. Gently, he slid the corner of the blinds aside, and peeked between them to the cobweb-strewn window with it's flecking white paint.
He could see why he had failed in his first attempt. The blinds had obscured the wasp's exact location. There was a two-inch gap between the blinds and the window, and the flyswatter hadn't forced them the distance to smash the little bastard.
He bit his lip. It was all a matter of distance.
Slamming the cup against the cheap glass, hard enough to rattle it, he imprisoned the wasp. It buzzed around angrily, trying to free itself from its cream-coloured prison.
Still chewing on his lip, he forced the edge of the flyswatter under the cup, and across the opening. Careful to keep his fingers away from the portion covering that space, he pulled it away from the window.
The cheap plastic slipped, and the wasp shot out, buzzing furiously and just royally pissed off.
"Shit!" He cried, falling backwards, twisting his ankle as he caught himself awkwardly, falling sideways across the bed. As he fell, his left hand connected with the wasp, sending that frail body up against the wall hard enough to snap.
He wriggled his ankle experimentally, and studied his hand. It was reddened, but the little fucker hadn't managed to sting him after all. Sharp buzzing alerted him to the knowledge that said fucker was, in fact, still very much alive, and quite possibly, more angry than before.
Cautiously, he peered over the headboard of the bed, half expecting it to lunge up with fifty of its friends, like a Donald Duck cartoon, and rip off his face. The wasp lay in a little pile, wings bent, body twitching.
Still alive.
"You stupid Fucktard." He whispered. "I wasn't going to kill you, you sorry bastard. I was just going to toss you outside. ...Let you become someone else's problem, savvy?"
The wasp buzzed again, and he smiled.
"Hey, now, buddy... No hard feelings, yeah? Some times you're the windshield, right? Some times you're the moron to stupid to stay in the fucking cup... " He asked, leaning over to pick up said item.
Still smiling, he brought the cup down hard. The buzzing stopped.
And he hit the wasp again.
(many hours, years, and miles later)
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Wait.
The voices stopped. One man stayed. The other turned the corner, and was gone in the night.
He inhaled.
Breathe in.
Wait.
Listen.
Wrist locked, arm steady, he raised the gun.
The ever-present darkness obscured the fucker's location.
But it was all a matter of distance.
Footsteps crunched across the gravel, crushing the glass he'd thrown earlier.
He fired.
And exhale.
"Breathe the pressure
Come play my game I'll test ya
Psychosomatic addict insane
Breathe with me
Exhale, exhale, exhale..."
-Prodigy, "Breathe"