BulletMature

Bullet

As the night grows old, the young artist pulls away from his drawing table and sighs muttering "Another night, another dream always lacking inspiration" before grabbing the drawing pad, ripping the top sheet and firing it into the small metal bin across the room.  Once upon a time, he would of smiled at landing such a spectacular shot but the time has passed for silly games and tomorrow he would return to the classroom. Yawning, he flicks the light switch and trudges up the creaking staircase.

Sighing, his mind dawdles to the days before meeting his beloved Marley and becoming a teacher when he was free to draw whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted. Those were the days he could draw for as little or as much as he wanted. Shaking his head, his face pictures his wife and he sighs to himself. If he had the chance to back, he wouldn't.

He walks towards the living room where he finds his wife snoozing on the old brown leather lounge. He smiles, it was the first thing they bought together and the only thing falling apart in their paradise. Kneeling next to his, he presses his lips to her sagging forehead. They had been together since the war, since infirmary - he was a wounded soldier, she was a nurse. Typical and rather stereotypical, they fell in love instantly.

Smiling, he looks to the great grandfather clock sitting in the corner - 23:53. He sighs, he would have to go to bed soon. Creeping into the porcelain white kitchen, he makes himself a midnight snack. Behind him somewhere he hears a buzzing sound.  Frowning, he walks over and discovers his wife's phone by the coffee pot. Why would it be there? he frowns, turning it on - seven missed calls from an unknown number and a message from "Robert". Robert was his thirty-something modelling neighbor - a bit of a lady's man, he was the textiles teacher at his school. Snorting at the ridiculous profession, he opens up the message.

"Hey babe. Is the old man zZz yet? Robby needs some lovin' ;)"

Frowning, he puts the phone down. Why would he messaging her at this hour in the night? AND more importantly why the fuck was he talking to her wife like that! He thinks to himself. Growling silently, he decides to deal with it tomorrow morning during breakfast. For now however, he would go to bed.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings. Marley groans as she turns over. He hears Tiff's bed shake. She must of woken up. Frowning, he walks quietly to the doorbell muttering to Marley "Go back to sleep sweetie, I will deal with the intrusion". Wrapping his bed robe around him and grabbing a baseball bat, he opens up the door muttering "Who the hell is knocking at my door at three o'clock in the bloody morning!" In the distance he hears an old man screaming, probably Mr. Tate - he was always screaming and carrying on.

Looking down, his face turns blank. Then suddenly hears a "bang" sound followed by screams from his wife and daughter. He is puzzled and confused as he falls to his knees. Looking up, he sees a masked man holding a pistol. He feels extremely cold and alone. He feels warm blood rushing from a wound. "Why?" he croaks at the man. The man laughs and with his dying breathe he hears a second shot.

The End

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