He sat there in his log cabin. Excluded from everyone. His family had passed and he was alone, only going into town to buy food or fuel, many of his days were wasted away with sleep. It was so silent there, a deep sleep was easy to reach, and obtain for quite sometime. He shuffled through his dresser draw looking for an old picture, instead he found an old gift. A 45 hand gun. He had never fired the handgun in the previous twenty years when he recieved it from his friend. Which died in the line of duty serving for his country in the US Army. God rest his soul. He smirked abit as he reflected on the times they shared.
The wind started howling, his radio had pronounced a nasty storm. He thought nothing of it but a good sleep again. The wind whistled at it almost sounded like a word.
"Hello?.....Hello?" he looked cautiously towards his front door. He gave a bewildered look and shook his head a bit "Must be hearing things." The wind bellowed out yet again, forming words through the branches of the trees.
"Hello?! Hellooooo?!" His smile faded to a stoic serious face, and he grabbed his so called gift from his fallen friend. He walked along his cabin, the floors didn't even creek. Just the sound of the rain and wind howling through the trees was the only sound he heard, besides the raising and racing of his own pulse.
He gripped the handle of the 45 and inspected his cabin, looking for anything, a rat to kill a bird that may have came through the window, just something. He glanced at the windows, they were all shut and locked. Paranoid? Maybe. A sharp short wind ghusted through again, and a longer one followed almost whispering out a sentence or phrase.
"Damnit! I hear you! I have a gun and I'm not afraid to use it!" He cocked his gun and his gripped tightened and his hands drew wet with sweat. His heart beat was like a drum in his head. Booming and banging. The wind roaring over this loud, quick paced drum in his head. "Show your self you coward! Show your face so I can place this bullet between your eyes damnit!!"
He sat in his living room of his beautiful cabin and lit his fire place, the crackling warmth of the embers usually relaxed him, he watched the fire dance still holding his gun. His attention had went from the loud wind onto the many colors and sounds of the small controlled fire. It did relax him straight into a sleep. Gun tight in hand.
"You do hear me right?" The man holding the gun stirred in his sleep
"What?" He asked in reply
"You hear me, remember what I said twenty years ago, this gun only has one remaining bullet, use it wisely, use it to the best of your ability, only in an emergancy."
"Who is this? Gary?"
The man waited half asleep, the fire barely burning now, he must have slept for hours, the storm was over, and it was back to silence besides the rare crackle here and there from his fire place. The voice was gone. He felt lonley swept over him, and he missed his fallen comrad.
~Only in an emergancy~ he thought to himself. He began realizing that he had been alone so long, that he was starting to lose his mind, sleeping into dilussions. Hearing voices. That couldn't be safe. and sadly this one bullet started looking mighty friendly when you're all alone and there's not a soul to care for you.
He turned the gun and looked down the barell. The fire cracked through the silence like a softball through your neighbors glass window. He heard it but felt nothing. It echoed off the walls of the cabin, and the empty chamber expended itself to the floor, he dropped the gun, and that was the last sound ever in that cabin, besides the faint dripping of the blood on the hard wood floor.
Years later they had to tear down the beautiful lakeview cabin, they would rent it out to many college kids, but during storms they all reported a soft sound of blood dripping and fire crackling without the fireplace being lit.....
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