Dreams Can Be A Killer

Delve into the seedy world of guns, murder and a cop trying to find the answers. Time is not his friend and neither are his brothers in blue. The only clue...a mysterious note that points to a world thought to be lost to time and only found in the pages of fiction. Join Michael as he follows the path into a world that doesn't exist. Is he losing his mind or is what he is seeing real? Only time and his dreams will give him the answers he seeks.

When does a dream become more than a dream?  This was a question that Michael has been asking himself since he was a child, when his dreams would awaken him in such a panic that his screams would draw his father's attention and his thundering footsteps to the door of his room and find young Michael sitting in bed crying.

Now in his thirties the dreams refused to leave him.  As he awoke with a scream stuck in his throat and sweet dripping form his brow he found himself asking that same question that he had when he was a child.  The dream was so real that he could still feel his heart racing.  His legs ached from running but as looked around the room he had not moved.  As he reached for the bedside light and the tablet that lay there each night waiting to capture his thoughts and his dreams as they flowed from the pen to the paper he was careful not to wake his wife who lay still even as Michael heaved himself out of the bed and began to slowly pace.  It was on the third trip back to the foot of the bed that the spot drew his attention.  The spot hadn't been there before, but now it was.  At first it just seemed to call out to him and then as if a man in a dream he looked down at his hands.  The hands that had so lovingly cuddled her last night now were clenched in anger.  the pen which allowed words to flow now lay in two pieces on the floor.  the sound of water dripping broke the stillness of the night.  To the curious observer it would have seemed odd that this man so powerfully built charged with protecting citizens from harm each day now stood in his bedroom crying like he was five years old again.  The words still echoing in his mind.  "The time has come."

The words meant nothing to Michael and neither did they last night when they first started racing throuhg his mind.  Tonight the image was more intense though.  Tonight he had been running from something.  He could still hear the sound as the round went tearing past his ear and struck a window no more than a foot in front of him.  He remembered grabbing his hip looking for the weapon that always sat there and finding nothing but empty air.  He ducked behind the car, feeling his heart racing as it should and then hearing the tell tale sound of a round being loaded into the chamber.  Before the round could be expended he awoke.

As he looked once more over at his beautiful wife of 18 months he thought something about her looked different.  Her hair was pulled back into the ponytail that it always was when she went to bed, but something about her was different.  As he stood there his hands began to shake.  The covers which were normally white now lay covered in a stain.  As Michael drew near his wife, he could tell without even touching her that she was dead.  As Michael reached for the phone to call it in the paper glided gently to the floor he wouldn't have even noticed it if it hadn't touched his foot.  As he leaned down to collect the note the door to his bedroom exploded and he found himself staring down the end of a service revolver pointed at his face.   On the other end of the gun was his partner.

The End

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