Hypnotized

[Cynetix]

My head aches. A dull ringing in my ears is prevailing over all attempts at complete thought patterns. Feels like I have a bad hangover but I swear I haven't been drinking. A sharp, stabbing pain in my chest is causing my breathing to become an absolute chore. The surface pressing against my back is cold, hard and unforgiving. Opening my eyes, my vision is a bit cloudy at first. Everything moving around me looms like unearthly apparitions. Am I seeing ghosts? Straining to focus, I notice that I am surrounded by the bleeding, bullet-riddled bodies of several different people; people of different races, creeds, ages, and sex. Some people are dressed in casual attire; a few are wearing dresses and some in suits. Jesus Christ, something awful has happened here. I turn my head, only to be greeted by the countenance of a pale, lifeless woman. Her sad face contains a pair of the bluest eyes I've ever seen. It would seem as if she had intended to peer into my soul and ask me why. Why? Did I do this? How could I have done this? I am not a violent person nor do I condone the use of violence. I don't even own a gun.

 

In front of me, a pane of glass with a few bullet holes displays a word that appears to be reversed. Flashing red and blue lights along with the faint noise of sirens and people yelling echo fluidly around the room as if I could almost see the sounds floating in the air. Several men wearing vests that read "POLICE" are frantically waving people away from the building. Looking down, clutched in my hand, I see an assault rifle. All over the beautiful tile floor are spent casings and drops of blood. This is impossible. Wait, does that window say "BANK"? What the hell is going on here? Is this a dream? If it is, someone please wake me. Please. I beg of you. This seems all too real and I am scared.

 

Weakness is overcoming me and I am helpless but to succumb. The burning in my chest is almost unbearable. The fluid in my lungs is making each breath more laborious. The on set of darkness offers me comfort and presents itself as warm and I must admit it is very inviting; however, I feel I am not ready to accept it. Not just yet. Not until I know what happened here. I have a few questions and would like some answers. For instance, where am I? How did I get here? What has happened? How can someone who wouldn't hurt a spider have taken all of these innocent lives? The lives of people I don't even know. As death finally convinces me to let him in, the only recollection I can muster is the ringing of the phone and a strangely familiar voice uttering the words "It is time"...