Today’s Prompt: Write a post inspired by a real-world conversation.Today’s twist: include an element of foreshadowing in the beginning of your post.
As we walked through southern California’s winter haze, my heart locked in a sheath of steel, cold and gray, I kicked a pebble across the sidewalk, daring it to fight back, staring it down through Clint Eastwood eyes. “I want to buy a gun.”
I despised the person who walked beside me. Last night he impersonated one of his favorite comedians, Rodney Dangerfield. Here, take my wife, please, just leave me alone. I loathed him. Mr. Runupstairsandhide who left my friend and me alone to contend with the wolves.
He said, “No. You’re not thinking straight. That’s murder.”
My nostrils flared. “Like hell it is. If they were human, it would be murder. They have ceased to be human. They are animals. Rabid animals. A danger to humanity.”
“God would never forgive you!”
I sneered, shaking my head.
Hate. It took twenty-one years, my whole entire life, before I experienced this ugly emotion. Evil. Twenty-one years to realize true, absolute evil exists. I wanted to kill it. I never knew I was capable of killing. How dare Mr. Runupstairsandhide advise me. “It isn’t murder. I know God would understand completely.”
“Don’t bring yourself down to their level!”
I stopped. No.
No. Therein lies the trap. I saw it clearly. How clever it was set. The only way for me to eradicate humanimals was if I became one myself. No. Not even a mouse, or an ostrich. No.
I walked back to the apartment in silence, barely aware of the jungle traffic, or the darkening night’s developing fog, or the man beside me, shocked.
I stayed up all night alone, in an apartment full of imperfect people; staring down a self I never knew existed.