JANUARY 28, 2007
This is a fictional story, I don’t know if you’ll like it or not. This didn’t really happen to me, honest. I’ll do some brainstorming and try to think of more cool stuff to write about.
The moment a gun is put to your head, everything changes.
First, you feel the cold steel of the instrument; then, the world starts back to color. Its not that the world is black and white during this moment; instead, it is simply a “void,” a void of all color.
As I stood in the room, my first throughts were wholly instinct: danger, danger, danger, stay calm. The heart beat within me rose, and steadied off at that rate. Looking forward, I saw death: we were having a staring contest.
If the trigger was pulled, surival would not be possible. Although at the time it didn’t occur to me, everyone’s seen that picture in the textbooks of a bullet going through an apple, the white goop spraying everywhere. In this instance, my head would be that apple. And this was the reality of the moment.
I do not know how long the moment lasted. It lasted. And at the moment the gun was lifted from the side of my head, it was over. An indent was left in my temple: I could feel the indent popping out, to match the rest of my head.
The face in front of me laughed.
“Man, you should have seen yourself: I thought you were gonna shit a brick. This thing ain’t even loaded, bro! Your white as paste.” A second passed, and another, and another. “Dude, are you alright?”
I wasn’t. I turned away. Put my head down.
“I’m sorry, man, Jesus, I was just messin around. What were you thinking, that I would pull the trigger?”
I answered. “I don’t know.”
I didn’t know; I couldn’t remember; I didn’t want to: the moment was over.