Fiction: 3386 Seconds

Time is relative. For instance it is infinite but also limited, never ending but running out. Simultaneously best and worst ever all across the world. Babies being born whilst one mans time is almost up. In 56 minutes or indeed 3386 seconds, to be more precise, the man everyone knew as Mr Anthony Di Costa would be dead.

That is of course if I did the job properly.

To do something like this you have to be in the correct frame of mind you see. Focused on the outcome at all times otherwise the job ends up half done and it’s really messy. Not an experience I want again. That’s why timing is crucial, even down to the last second. True there are variables to consider, especially in a city of this size. Relatives for example tend to get in the way of a task like this if they are not held up in the Wednesday afternoon traffic on the way back from Target.

Today is a Wednesday. Almost like I planned it.

Method of course is also important. I have learnt this from experience too. You use the wrong tool for the job and you will have lots of explaining to do. A considerable pain as I recall. So today I have prepared a shotgun, with shells big enough to dispose of a bear from 100 feet away. This is not a weapon for second chances. One shot, all over.

I often wonder how I found myself in this situation. I mean here I am in a city full of opportunity. College years now long behind me, but I came out of that with some good grades. A boring but well paid job was just out there waiting for me they said. But here I am.
If I let myself think back to those college days for too long, my mind always wanders. There was a girl, there is always a girl, she lived out on the island with this little dog that always barked like a mad thing whenever I visited her. If she had said “yes” to me on the day I gazed into those beautiful eyes and asked her to be my wife, would I be here, gun in hand? Who knows. I don’t have time to ponder that anymore. My window of opportunity grows smaller.

Gun loaded, ready for the task. That’s how I had to think of it, a task, something to be done, finished. No emotion, that was another mistake from before. I guess you can say I am far from the best man for the job, but options, I suppose, are very thin on the ground.

The time is upon me now. This needs to be done before I back out. Eyes on the prize. C’mon now Anthony. Step into the light, I can do this. Focus, fingers on the trigger, white with pressure and adrenaline. This was the moment, shotgun barrel pointed upwards and pressed hard against my chin and now to embrace the end.

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Fiction: Apartment 3386

I seem to have always lived here. Apartment 3385, Sunview, just off Gosling and Forth in the depths of the Big Bad city. She lives in Apartment 3386. She moved in three months ago and she has driven me to distraction ever since. She has long dark hair and a face that made me, even with my atheist leanings, want to believe there was a God. From afar I gazed into her eyes, I think they are light blue.

In the city guys like me do not approach girls like her. Mace stings. I do however, see her twice everyday and at night in my dreams. She’s a good girl, the pushers come calling to the block at least twice a day, dealing their pills and potions. I ain’t never seen them stop at her door. Me, I ain’t perfect. I let those bastards in long ago, now I just take whatever they offer.

Usually my highs are very high, and the lows, well let’s just say if I trusted the light fitting not to come away from the mould marked ceiling I wouldn’t be around. That’s changed since she appeared. I see her, when I go to get my mail in the mornings. Always a vivid vision, her smile lights up the hallway and wakes me up much more effectively than anything the pushers offer. For those few brief seconds in the hall I can marvel at her figure, pert perfection flowing effortlessly into curves that would make a Coke bottle jealous.

I don’t know her name. Of course I checked her mailbox, but the name plate is blank. The way she moves it should be something regal although this place is about as far from a palace as it’s possible to get. Screams often echo through the interconnecting passageways. No-one calls the cops, head down, keep quiet.

Quiet and still until the pushers come.

When the deal has been done, I see her again. She passes my door and casts a beautiful silhouette that is the only part of her that has entered my apartment. I have nearly called out to her, but I fear I’ll scare her away. The pushers have done their work and I am far from my best. They said she’s not good for me. Those white coated bastards said they would make her disappear.

I reached out. I tried to warn her. But soon she was gone.

I would have cried. Had I not been “medicated” as they called it. I am screaming inside.

I seem to have always lived here. Apartment 3385, Sunview Institution just off Gosling and Forth in the depths of the Big Bad city.

Castle Village 120 Cabrini Boulevard building from west