Conclusions

Darkness shrouded his face as he turned towards the path. Lined with the dark figures of endless trees, their limbs stretched inward as if to tear his briefcase out of his tight grip, tear the clothes off his frame, tear the soul from his body. A fence stretched down either side of the path, black shadows casting black thoughts upon the worn pails. What waited at the end of this dark path, this foreboding endless stretch of unease? His watch glowed bright green in the moonlight, a display of crystal clear in a misty reality, is that what it truly was?

11:05pm. Time.

His footsteps echoed as he proceeded down the path. All that could be seen in the distance was a pitch black darker than the darkest night, accentuated by his never-ending comrades, holding him to the linear reality. 11:25pm. Only twenty minutes? It had seemed like hours. The briefcase felt like a lead weight, his arm numb from hours of clutching this dead object. Besides, what was so important about it anyway? What secrets were held in its tiny frame, away from all eyes to see? Holding it up to the moonlight, he inspected it further. Black leather surrounded the outer casing, held tight and fastened by a tiny catch. The bright display of the watch caught his eye. 11:35pm. As he glanced at the watch, from the corner of his eye, he noticed the sudden movement of the shadows around him, stretching towards him, reaching, binding. Breaking contact with the watch, he whipped around to search the shadows, and found them where they were supposed to be. All was as it should be, the endless pailings, the malevolent trees, the ominous horizon unseen. Slowly, his gaze settled back upon the briefcase. Curiosity filled his dark eyes.

Continuing his lonely trek down the path, he inspected the catch mechanism of the briefcase more closely. A single golden hook through a tiny loophole, not a single lock or code dial to be seen. Excitement rose up from within him, a guilty feeling from how easy it would be. A single click. That was all. The only bar between him and the secrets that lie beyond his reach, now only a single click away. Peering left to right, his hasty eyes caught no one watching, only shadows, dark figures reaching, reaching. The catch glowed bright, calling to him, begging him to play. Hunger filled those dark eyes of his as he reached toward the extraordinarily heavy object. It needed to be opened, it WANTED to be opened, only for his eyes, only for him, no one else could see, no one else should see. The shadows reached, reached, stretched out to grab him. With a sudden effort he flicked the latch and yanked it wide open.

Falling to his knees, the sudden weight too much to bear, his eyes stared into the open briefcase. What lie beyond stared right back, invading his mind, purveying his thoughts. The shadows were almost upon him now, their clutching palms stretching out to him, yearning to touch. The gun in the briefcase gleamed brightly, its cold hard steel an uneasy comfort in this darkened place. It felt smooth, cool to the touch, of a good weight, as if it was built to be in his hand. Before he realized what he was holding, the sudden thrust of his hand place the barrel at his temple, his finger resting on the trigger, ready to squeeze. The effort of this sudden battle of wills strained on his face, etching it with fear. What was he doing? Sweat rolled down his forehead and face, climbing into his nose and mouth. His whole body shook with the effort of restraint. The gun rattled with the sound of the bullets, a cold hard freedom. But freedom felt so good, didn’t it? This dark place was nowhere to be without freedom, wasn’t it? The bullets felt cold in the chamber, cool, powerful. Let the freedom come. Doesn’t it feel good? It does, doesn’t it? The shadows reached around him, holding him, comforting him with their dark restraint. An uneasy comfort, one of a gratifying feeling shrouded in malevolence and death. They entered his being, covered his body, wooed his soul to their comforting touch. A shadowy hand reached up and helped him pull the trigger.

A man lie in a coffin surrounded by loved ones; friends, family, people who knew him and loved him. He had lived a long life, a fulfilling life, one of hardship and struggles, good times and bad. He had never been a religious man, but did he make it there? The bright green display of his watch flickered for the last time and faded out. 12:00am.