Embedded Files
By Ryan Sheppard
Moonlight cast a filtered shadow through the crashing blinds, swinging violently with the wind. Howls and whispers echoed through the night, diffusing sounds of hopeless anticipation as it came and went. Perpetual darkness illuminated the gloom, maliciously shrouding the finite sliver of moonlight left. A bolt of thunder struck, casting a mesmerizing glow. Tracing the surroundings, beyond the bleakness ensnared within, there was little humanity that remained.
Shelves stood categorically aligned, many holding first editions and collectors' tales, all bound together by heavy layers of thick dust. Adjacent shelves lay in ruin, collapsed and heaped atop one another, littered with half-torn pages that spilled onto the floor. Lightning struck again, slamming the creaking door shut.
Bloodied markings scratched the wooden frame, trailing toward a scarlet handprint on the doorknob. The wind thrashed coarsely,, sending a sturdy book tumbling off the countertop. Scattered photos sprawled lifelessly on the carpet. Shadowed figures in the pictures hinted at happier times, though many were torn in half. Necklaces and bracelets chimed whenever the blinds flapped, glistening in the sporadic light. Beads burst frantically across the canvas of despair, rolling menacingly towards a charm. A quaint, green token of an Eiffel Tower, despondent in colour, edged its blunted tip in the viscous puddle now weaving through the carpet.
Empty pill bottles spilled across the tabletop, dissolving in the remnants of a fallen whiskey bottle. Its bitter stench flustered and tamed the howling gloom. The sharpness met its match against the erodeous metal tang of a crimson blade, leaning unbalanced as it tilted back and forth, swaying on the edge of the table. A droplet plunged from the knife, free-falling like a scarlet shadow amidst the bleak emptiness… until eventually, it landed.
Splat.
Hitting an unlaced, mud-trodden boot. Another crash of lightning revealed a dim figure hobbled, slumped in the corner of the room. His face was barely visible, but the tears on his cheeks shone in the intermittent light. His body jittered in an agitated state, with his fingers trembling over the barrel of the gun. Loose bullets jangled in his palm—five in total, with one already loaded.
Cocking his gun, he glanced at the picture beneath him.
A roar of thunder broke the silence. Unfazed and determined, he aimed the gun at the bottom of his chin. A flash of light captivated the photograph revealing a young man and woman - smiling as the two share a kiss in the sunny backdrop of a picturesque plaza.
They looked so happy. So in love.
The younger man in the photo was a different man from the broken one now cradling the gun beneath his chin. A tear fell onto the photo, dissolving in his scarred hand.
“I wish I could see her again,” he thought, his mind filled with longing and regret. “I’ll see you soon,” he whispered, his voice breaking.
As he choked back a sob, lightning struck one final time.
Squeezing the trigger would be his release. His way out.
With eyes shut tight, he trembled a desperate gasp... BANG... the door in front of him crashed open violently.
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