Life Roller Coaster,Midnight Shopper

(I'm really not yet happy with this and I would like to hear ANY criticism that anyone might have that could help me improve on this. Even if it's the tiniest bit of improvement I will appreciate it greatly. Note: There is an intro before this chapter, although it is not required to understand the goings on of this piece it will make a bit more sense)

Cold hard night,
Insanity on the prowl,
What is right?
Bringing death,
Or instead taking,
Your final breath,
What is normal?
What is life
Without moral?
Feeling no shame,
Follow twisted love,
Pushing the blame.
Decide and find,
Life beyond rules,
Have your own mind.



The dark wispy night air swirled about the lonely 7/11, cloudy upon the witching hour. It was beacon in the night for those seeking refuge in its short halls of high calorie snack foods and sugary treats. Its sign seemed to float in the air a hundred feet towards the stars, a dim sun in the night. Bugs flew about it. Dark and lonely on the street corner of Pacific and Atlantic avenues. The streetlights did flicker, as if the moths bouncing off it interfered with the electricity. A hound barked in the distance. The whistle of the wind sounded like the whisper of a white ghost. A mysterious owl hooted atop a nearby tree, sounding like a muse of Satan out to bring the weak minded to the side of fire and brimstone. At least that is how it had been pictured in Jeff’s mind. A mere sixteen year old boy, hood up, slurping on a icee.

Such superstition and eccentricities always seemed to squirm about his mind at these darkened hours. Thoughts of Caesar’s ghost coming around and grinding a skateboard on the sidewalk or maybe a giraffe driving from inside the bowels of a living car seemed to drift through his confused and shattered brain. None seemed impossible, merely improbable. Fantasy had always shared a place along side the reality of every day life in Jeff’s actualization of the world, for what is a man without imagination? Of course these thoughts did come from a teenager, which explained a bit. His hooded black sweatshirt had a metallic blue dragon twisting around his arm with a threatening snarl. Baggy grayed cargo pants drooped to the floor draping across his shoes with scraggly ends which he often treaded upon. With night black hair and brown eyes that were glazed lightly with fatigue. The quiet type of kid but with such imagination, his grips upon his emotions seemed stressed. Fickle and read to snap.

It had been weeks since the disappearance of Lilly and all that calmed his spastic hold upon his self being was the simply blue zooberry icee he sipped on. Like an old man with a cigarette, he dragged a long gulp from the straw. Savored the cold, brain ceasing up. Brain freeze was his own version of self masochism while the mesmerizing motion of the mixer always brought him into a state of peace. His own little ritual when these teenage days got hectic. Lilly had simply left the house and had not returned. No boyfriend to speak of nor agitation from parents to explain her departure. Simply up and left without a word. Tired of searching for the streets for the night, his nerves tested and twitching, he sought refuge in this nearby establishment.

These sunless hours always brought about the more colorful people of town in search of that late night fix, whether it be a beer, tobacco, and on a few occasions the much needed scent of febreeze before a good nights sleep. People just seemed to be drawn to the mildly blue tinted fluorescent lights that hummed on those late nights, as if moths to a flame. It just seemed to be one of those nights. The stereotypical comic book nerd sat behind the counter. His fragile folded chair creaked as his flab overflowed out from under his stained star wars shirt that had long since been instilled with the smell of moldy cheese. His hair drawn back in a greasy orange pony tail, glasses fixed with duct tape. Blue lightsaber always at his side, he was prepared to defend his store if need be. Being the not so friendly neighbor hood that this was, a man had once come around high on meth. With a gun in hand, the man tried to rob the store. But what is a nerd to do backed into a corner with no weapon to retaliate? So he pulled out his lightsaber and declared the code of the Jedi sending the meth head off into the distance, scared as a baby battle droid. Before then he was a star trek fan, yet now his faith lies with the force. A legend or possibly urban legend of the town.

Jeff soon approached the counter with a handful of quarters with which to pay for his cup of icy sugar. The nerd took the money without looking up from his X-Men comic “Thank you, come again.” he said shooing Jeff away with his hand, as if his mere presence was irritating. Jeff took another sip from his icee and responded “Yeah your welcome dude, or do you still want people to call you Wolverine?” of course, Jeff was not in the best of moods. Walking away the nerd flipped him off again without looking away from his comic as Jeff happily returned the gesture walking backwards through the push doors. A spark and there was darkness. Without warning he was shoved to the ground.

His own face squished his icee onto the floor exploding the blue ooze in his own face. Trying to sit up, he was pinned to the ground as a man sat on his hips. Cold metal was pressed to the base of his neck. Death frozen to his flesh. “Freeze!” a gruff voice shouted, pointing the gun to the nerd who had finally had enough sense to pry his eyes from Storm’s boobs on page 15. Looking onto the ground the icee seeped across the floor drawing rivers, trailing off with each second as all three were captured in time. Darkness seemed to fill Jeff’s ears from the silence. Flickering, the sun of 7/11 was the only light penetrating to cast a faint glow. Jeff could feel his heart throb, almost seeing his own breath. Not even the lights of a passing car highlighted them. The man grabbed Jeff by the back of his sweatshirt and tugged him to his feet. “I emptied the cash register, there is nothing in there except this weirdos seventy-five cents!” the nerd said raising his pit stained arms over his head out of instinct. “Just stay where you are!” the man with the gun shouted waving it threateningly. His voice was rough, his breath malignant and stale. The man seemed old yet he stood at 5’6”, a few inches shorter than Jeff. Putting the gun on Jeff’s shoulder, still holding him by his hood, he aimed it at the nerd near the cash register, ready to fire at a twitch. Looking out of the corner of his eye Jeff could only see a long nose protruding from a gray hooded sweatshirt that covered the mans face. In a way it reminded him of Snape from Harry Potter, seeming sinister and curved like the beak of an eagle, his face was indistinguishable in the darkness.

Slowly the man tugged Jeff to his right until they had turned around the counter, keeping the abyssal hole of the muzzle pointed at the pale faced nerd. Jeff could feel a cold drip of moisture drag slowly down from his eye across his cheek. Possibly a tear heavy with fear, or the melting icee that was still splattered over his face. Coming within a couple feet of the nerd with his hands still high and odor racing even more than usual from his pores, the man stood still for a few seconds letting go of Jeff’s hood yet leaving the gun on his shoulder. They were blocking the only open side of the counter, and with his athletic stature the nerd would not be able to get over the counter fast enough to avoid the mans aim. Jeff could feel the mans body heat against his back as shifted, pulling something from a sheath at his side. Not being able to see for himself, Jeff could merely speculate what the man had in his spare hand from the reflection of fear in the nerd’s eyes.

The man gave a low snickering sort of laugh, sounding like the growl of a lion, again something that would easily be imagined in a story of mystical fiction. Cold steel grazed across his cheek. Adrenaline pumped through his skin, not feeling the pain as a knife was drawn across his cheek. Blood dripped to the floor, lightly colored purple from the zooberry. A long silence grew as Jeff’s face leaked with tears, blood, mucus, and sugar water. Flicker of the lights. Bark in the distance. Hoot of the owl. Time stands still. Gun on the right. Knife on the left. Death stricken man in front. Homicidal maniac behind.

Finally the man spoke “I shall give you two choices. Now, you see your friend over here?” he said as the knife lifted away, looking like more of a dagger from its size. “He will die either choice you make, but you my friend.” he said patting his face with the side of his gun “Will be deciding between life, or death.” The nerd’s knees seemed to tremble below him, his arms being drawn lower as he tried to back up against the wall. “DON’T MOVE!” the man shouted point the gun straight out at him. The nerd froze. “Now, either I put a bullet through his head and yours.” the man said seeming to aim up the barrel with his left eye and the mans head. “Or…“ slowly he lowered the knife close to Jeff’s hand, placing it in his palm and curling his fingers around it with his stone cold touch. The joints in Jeff’s hand seemed to ache as if bathing them in ice water for an hour as he took the weight of the knife in his hand. Pushing lightly, he had Jeff stand in front of him a few feet putting with the gun still on his shoulder. “Or…You can cut off this poor mans head with your own hands, and live.”

With those words Jeff’s pupils dilated so fast he swore he could feel it shake his head. “Are…are you kidding me? I am…not…” the man smacked him lightly on the cheek again with the side of his gun. “Oh yes you are, that is unless you have a death wish...” Jeff seemed to feel the chill of the mans sneer, even if he could not turn around and see his face. The nameless man did not make a move as the nerd slowly sunk back into a corner. They say teenagers could never understand the true pressure of making decisions in the real world, saying that they did not know the line between right and wrong. Yet when those people say such things they are attempting to fool themselves. Never is there a line between right and wrong, merely perspective. Everyone sees everything differently and as long as they have justification they believe what they did was right. But at this frozen moment in time, there was not right or wrong. There was only survival.

Again the man gave Jeff a nudge, yet his touch felt distant as a ghost. “Choose.” he said sternly. Slowly, Jeff took the weight of the knife, holding it up with the power of courage or simply fear. He had decided. And from then on, he knew, life was never going to be the same.