The Hunting Wolf - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 

Wolf woke up with a start. He still had dreams of the bombings and killings at times. No matter how many times one had pulled the trigger, it was always mentally taxing on the mind. Every shot taken was more money in the bank but also more blood on his hands. Wolf  got dressed and finished his morning routine off with a black coffee and buttered toast. It was the early hours on a clear cold September morning. The early-risers were dressed in their typical fall clothing, heading out to work. 

Wolf stepped out wearing a grey tracksuit and a beanie to cover his ears. He breathed in the chill air and felt his lungs fill up giving him a refreshing feeling. He started to jog down the side of the road making his way to the central park. He ran a few laps around the park until he felt out of breath and stopped at a large open space where a group of old Asian ladies in track suits were doing Tai Chi. Wolf watched them calmly and began to stretch himself. A few moments later he was off again this time heading towards the subway station and got on the train going towards the Expo. The train was relatively empty at this time in the morning with the majority of the commuters going the other way towards the business district. Wolf got off at the station and went up to ground level. The exit led to an empty carpark with the Expo building about a few hundred metres away. The building seemed abandoned except for the security and maintenance personnel moving within. Wolf turned away from the carpark and saw apartment buildings west of the Expo. He pulled his hood over his head and began jogging towards them. 

He came to an old building painted reddish-brown with cracks running through the cement structure. He walked up to the front door and to his delight there was no security system installed - no key car, nothing required to get in. He opened the door and came to a carpeted landing with post boxes that covered the walls with all the apartment numbers inscribed on them. That would explain the lack of a security system; since the post boxes were inside the building itself, the postman would need to have free access in and out. To his left was a staircase and to the right was a lift door. Wolf walked up to the lift door and pressed the button. Wolf grew slightly impatient as the old lift took ages to come down from the 11th floor. An old lady had now joined him in waiting for the lift to come down. 

The lift doors finally opened and Wolf held the door open and gestured to the old lady to enter first with a seemingly genuine smile. The old lady went in and Wolf followed. She reached up from her hunched back to press the number 6 and smiled at Wolf. Wolf smiled back and pressed the largest number on the panel - 11. Wolf got out at the 11th floor and was greeted by the scream of a cat startled by his footstep on the carpeted floor. Wolf turned towards the only natural light that came from corridor. He walked towards the open window along the corridor slowly and quietly. He heard a the clang of a metal pan followed by the crash of ceramic. Wolf checked to make sure he was not being watched as he looked around for a staircase that could give him access to the roof but to his dismay there was none.

He came to the window and grabbed the ledge tightly while he poked his head out. He squinted under the shining sun high up in the sky and looked up towards the roof. The window head jutted out slightly and the ledge of the room seemed to be just over a foot in height from there. Wolf carefully put his feet up on the window sill while grabbing the head of the window with one hand. His feet now fully on the sill, he turned around to face back into the building. He breathed in deeply and out through his mouth. With a quick movement, Wolf grabbed the ledge and pulled himself up to the roof. The roof was completely flat and barren; the cement discoloured by the weather and the elements. Wolf turned to face the Expo in the distance. 

He lay down on the hot cemented roof on his front while facing the Expo. The glass panels of the building glinted in the sunlight. This would be a problem which meant he could only take the shot at noon with the sun directly above him so that the reflections of the glass panels in the building did not affect the shot. He unzipped his trouser pocket and pulled out a small black spy glass. He looked down the spy glass at the Expo building and slowly adjusted the sight until he could clearly see the inside. His breathing became slower and quieter as a guard walked past the place he was staring at. Wolf knew. He looked around the surrounding buildings before getting back down the and into the window. 

He made his way back to the subway and headed home. On the walk back to his apartment, Wolf's phone rang in his trouser pocket. He pulled it out and answered. 

"There were deposits in some of your accounts this morning. Just wanted to let you know..." a female voice said. 

"Thanks Leah" Wolf replied. 

"Wolf... You sure about this yeah?" Leah asked hesitantly. 

Wolf sighed. "Yes... just stick to what I told you. It'll be fine" said Wolf as he cut the call. 

Wolf unlocked the apartment door and took off his tracksuit jacket. He undressed everything but his trousers and opened his closet. He knelt down and felt around the bottom of the wooden closet until his fingers came to a notch. He pulled the bottom board of the closet which revealed a secret compartment with a rectangular black suitcase within. He pulled the suitcase out and walked back to the living room. He switched on the TV and unlocked the suitcase. The black metal glinted under the light. 

"President Damian is set to make history with the signing of the treaty of solidarity. The first such President to sign such a treaty with any country says it is a step forward for all the countries involved as it seeks to ignore each one's differences and stand together against a common threat." the lady news reporter read out.

Wolf pulled out the barrel from the foam cushioning and the cloth that was within the case. He looked at the barrel and studied it carefully and began to wipe it with the cloth deliberately.

"The leaders of 10 countries will be meeting at the Summit to discuss strategies and to sign the treaty which will be held in a week's time at the Expo." 

Wolf stared at the screen and continued wiping...

The Hunting Wolf - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The rain poured down from the dark gloomy sky. A jet black sedan too posh to be in the suburbs pulled into the narrow and lonely alleyway. The driver got out with an umbrella held in his hand, hurried round to the passenger side and opened the door. Todd Cassidy stepped out onto the cold wet gravel road and buttoned his suit. He walked to a rusted metal door decorated with graffiti under the umbrella held by the driver. The sound of a latch being slid came from the other side of the door and the door opened with its hinges creaking. Todd walked in and turned around to face the driver.

“Come back in 2 hours’ time. Your son was sick and I gave you permission to visit and that’s what you were doing”. The driver nodded and went back to the car.

The corridor was dimly lit with writings scrawled all over the wall. A man dressed in a black suit shut the metal door close and bolted it as Todd walked down the corridor. At the end of the corridor to the right was a cemented staircase with cracks running all over it. Todd went up two floors. The smell of boiled cabbage and alcohol seemed to burn the hairs in his nostrils. Todd came to a carpeted floor which had lost its colour and looked dull – stains blotted parts of it. He looked at it in disgust as he walked on down to a door being guarded by another man dressed similar to the one guarding the door on the ground floor. The man nodded and opened the door for Todd.

He was greeted by the strong smell of cigar and a cloud of smoke. The room was rather small with just a small round table with two wooden chairs and a couch with a side table with a lone file on it. The table was set up near the French windows which were open to let the smoke out of the room. A cheaply framed painting of the civil war hung above the tiny fireplace with charcoal and ashes from a fire that died long ago. Major Dima was sat on one of the wooden chairs facing the window and puffed out smoke rings from his cigar. Commissioner Guillam was admiring the painting of the civil war while the Central Bank Governor Chamberlain sat across Dima at the table.

Dima turned around as the door shut behind Cassidy. “About time…” said Dima as he got up from his chair and walked over to the window. The other two men looked at Todd and greeted him with a nod.

“Gentlemen, apologies for the tardiness. Our guest should be arriving shortly; before that I would like to discuss a few things. By now it has been established that all four of us in this room will be the successors, granted everything goes as planned. Each of you will retain your positions in your respective fields with greater power and reward of course. This operation stays within the 4 of us and our guest. I hope that is clear.” Todd explained to the men who agreed with a nod. A long silence followed.

Major Dima took a long drag from his cigar and spoke “Say it all goes to hell… what then?”.

“I have the same question…” the Commissioner intervened with concern.

“Let’s not pretend here shall we? All of us here have something to gain from this. We are all motivated by our own gain ultimately. I have a gun pointed to each of your heads and so do each of you. If it does go to hell, then it’s every man for himself. The plan never happened and we continue on. If anyone plans on ratting out anyone then you know what is coming for you.” Cassidy replied sternly.

There was a knock on the door; the four men looked at the door. “That would be him.” Cassidy announced. Chamberlain got up and went over to the empty couch. The door was opened by the guard outside with one hand on the door knob and the other pressed against his hip holster. A tall man with wide shoulders walked in behind the guard. The wooden floor creaked under his powerful footsteps. He was wearing a khaki trench coat with a fedora which cast a shadow over his bearded face. 

“Ah Mr. Wolf! We have been expecting you!” exclaimed Todd as he walked over and gave him a firm handshake. The guard went back out and closed the door behind him. Wolf looked over the room and the other 3 men without saying a word.

“Please have a seat.” Todd offered the chair left vacant by Chamberlain. Wolf unbuttoned his trench coat and removed his hat which revealed a line running across from his left eyebrow down to his cheek. He walked over and took his seat. Major Dima turned his chair to face the room while putting out his cigar in the ash tray on the table. 

“Commissioner, if you would. Please” Todd gestured to Guillam who walked over to the side table and handed Todd the file which was on it. Todd opened it and laid it out in front of Wolf. His eyes seemed to deceive him as he stared at the picture laid out in front of him. He was astonished at the man these people wanted him to kill. Wolf quickly regained his composure before anyone in the room could see it and looked up at Cassidy.

“I’m sure you recognize the man.” Todd said to a calm Wolf.

“Of course…”

“Do we have a problem?” asked Dima with a scowl on his face trying to measure up Wolf.

“I’m not motivated politically nor patriotically. A high profile target, all I’m expecting is a high monetary reward. I do have some concerns however…” replied Wolf steel-faced.

“He will be at the Summit in two weeks’ time. They’re signing the treaty of solidarity at the Expo. We reckon that’s when it needs to be done.” Todd explained

 “Security will be taken care of by the Commissioner. He will make the necessary arrangements to cause a fault in the security surveillance system. The west wing of the Expo Hall has a wide glass exterior. I’ll leave you to pick the place and so on. Anything you need you go through me.” Todd now had a more assertive tone.

Wolf nodded “The money...?” he questioned.

Todd gestured to Chamberlain who spoke “Half of it before and half after the job is done, as agreed. The money should be there within the week through multiple deposits to your 

offshore accounts. The final pay will be at a safe deposit box at the bank of your choice.”

“Fair enough. If that is all; I shall be leaving now.” said Wolf as he stood up and grabbed the file. 

“Everything else you might need is in the file. You understand the gravity of the task set before you. It needs to be clean.” Todd reiterated.

“I understand” Wolf replied as he folded the file and tucked it away in his trench coat before buttoning it. He shook the hand of each of the men and knocked on the door. The door opened and Wolf proceeded out while wearing his fedora making sure it tilted slightly downwards to cover his face ever so slightly.

Major Dima got up and buttoned his army jacket. “I better get going. Long drive back”

“Very well then gentlemen. I expect your absolute co-ordination in the next few days. Chamberlain I trust you to make the payments as necessary. Commissioner and Major, the security detail and surveillance teams you will personally oversee and make the necessary adjustments. We will take this country by the throat and make it ours!” exclaimed Todd.

Outside, the rain had thinned to a slight drizzle as the clouds started to part leaving a massive hole in the sky. Pedestrians walked the streets with umbrellas of all colours and sizes. Wolf put up his collars to cover his neck from the cold. He passed his fingers over the coat where the file was tucked away and began walking along with the flow of pedestrians. He pulled out his flip phone from his upper coat pocket and dialed a number. 

“Wolf?” the voice of a woman answered the phone. Wolf had walked to a bridge that ran across the river. The water glimmered under the sun. The streets were now packed with people rushing to wherever they had to go.

“I need you to do something for me…” Wolf spoke into the phone as he blended into the crowd.

In the narrow alleyway, a jet black sedan pulled up as the rusted metal door swung open. 

The Hunting Wolf - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The crowds’ three syllable chants grew louder. Pickets, banners and posters stuck out from a sea of heads with the words “CHANGE!” painted on them in red and black. The protesters occupied the entire width of the road leading up to the State House. Lights flashed from the cameras of reporters on either side of the road with each reporter describing the current state of the event; creating a chaos of words that blended in with the chanting of “We want change!”. The white-washed walls of the State House seemed to tremble from the voices of the protesters. Within his office, President Damian sat brooding with his fingers crossed and elbows on the table; listening to the crowd. His greying hair was neatly combed to one side parted on the left. His pale, square-jawed face lacked emotion and the wide broad-shoulder body lacked any evidence of a soul. He slowly closed his eyes and seemed to shake himself loose of a great weight from his shoulder and reached over to the telephone beside him. “Get Todd to come in.” he ordered before cutting the call.

The door knob clicked and the door opened. A bald man dressed in a fitting grey suit walked in, his mannerism suggesting a soldier within the shell of a politician. “Mr. President” he acknowledged. “Shhh…” said the President “Listen!”. Both of them listened to the protesters. “I want this gone! The whole country seems to be against me; we need to change something… something radical. We’re less than 10 months from the next election. And I’m not planning on giving up this seat. You and I both know I’m going to run again and we need to win. I need loyalty and that seems like a short supply in this office nowadays…” Damian broke off and was engrossed in deep thought. 

“I’ll begin putting together a list of people we can sway, sir. Skeletons in the closet and what not.” replied Todd.

“That alone won’t do, in order to win the election, we need to win within the House and the voters’ approval…” Damian thought for a few moments in silence as Todd waited.

“Sir, I need not state my loyalty to you. All these years since you’ve been Mayor, I’ve never wavered. You’ve considered me your own son. I serve you and you alone” replied Todd in confidence.

“Oh I have full confidence in you Todd. It’s the rest I am worried about…” Damian was interrupted by the ringing of the phone.

“Mr. President sir, Major Dima is here and he says it’s urgent” said an electronic voice. 

“Send him in” 

A large-framed man walked in with his peak cap held in his left arm. His khaki suit was decorated with multiple coloured bars, medals and pins. His face was square with fat creeping around it due to old age with a scar near the end of his right eyebrow, the silvery hair on his head was cut neatly and swept back. Todd and Dima silently exchanged looks before Dima addressed the President.

“Sir, I need to brief you on the situation in Aleppo. The rest of the staff have already assembled in the Control Room”.

The President got up without saying a word to Todd. The men proceeded out of the room and moved through a corridor lined with paintings that illustrated the country’s history and culture. The elevator was already waiting for them when they arrived, the men got in and went down two floors. The protesters’ voices seemed non-existent now, in the basement. The corridor was darker even though it was well-lit, a heavy silence blanketed the entire floor. The men entered the room on their immediate right; Todd opened the door for both the President and Dima. The staff in the room all stood up as a show of respect to the President. “Please, sit down” said Damian as he took his seat at the head of the large oval table. In front of him was a screen with the satellite image of a map projected on to it.

Outside the State House, the crowd grew larger and angrier. The sidewalks were now scattered with people, young and old taking a break from the constant chanting and standing on their feet. The police riot squad stood lined up with their shields behind the invisible barrier between them and crowd. Men with kerchiefs tied to cover their faces from the nose downwards emerged from behind the protesters. A total of 5 men dressed in similar fashion with a brown beer bottle in each of their hands stood silent among the crowd. They exchanged a look between them and nodded. The cloth at the mouth of the bottles were lit. 

The sound of glass breaking and a loud eruption of flames startled the crowd as screaming and shouting ensued. The policemen began pushing forward with their line while being pelted with stones and pickets and glass. The younger men were now lighting firecrackers to startle the policemen and hurling it onto their shields, ducking for cover in between throws. The older and weaker protesters tried to flee the scene of chaos as they were caught in the cross fire. The loud flash bang from a smoke grenade echoed throughout the avenue as smoke filled the atmosphere and blanketed the air. People coughed and tears streamed down from the faces of those who breathed in the smoke.

 Men and women shouting the names of their loved ones in a desperate attempt to find each other. A lone riot policeman was caught by a gang of five young men as they forced his helmet off his head and began beating him with sticks and pelting him with stones. More policemen were dragged away from their formations as the crowd surrounded them from all sides. When they ran out of sticks and stones to throw, they resorted to punches and kicks. Dust covered the streets as blood trickled down into the metal-grilled drains on the sides of the road.  A child stood in the middle of the chaos covered in blood, crying and in shock. A bald man sat atop an officer with his helmet off grabbed the policeman’s baton and began to beat the man’s face as he screamed in pain; over and over again. For a moment, the attackers’ faces seemed to contort into something not entirely human. The avenue became a jungle and the men became animals where the law was to kill or be killed.

Back inside the State House, an assistant knocked on the door to the Control Room and whispered a few words to the General who had opened the door. He turned around and interrupted Major Dima who was pointing to a place on the map. “I’m sorry to interrupt sir but the situation outside has escalated.”

Re-enforcement arrived in large police trucks; the police now outnumbered the protesters. The crowds began to scatter retreating into the narrow and winding alleyways. Men in blue and black chasing civilians. The loud wailing of the ambulance sirens filled the avenue. The smoke had now cleared and bodies lay scattered on the road. Paramedics began attending to the bodies that still twitched. A lone flag stood fluttering in the wind on the side of the road; shredded and covered in blood. The wind picked up ever so slightly and the flag fell to the ground with a sound that seemed to echo for miles around...

The Sailor

Dedicated to Vignesh - "Be good to yourself because the whole world will try to put you down" 

How long has it been? I would ask myself; every day of every week for every month that passed.
124 days it had been since I stepped off land and went to sea. And 1 day it had been since I started feeling this way. Lost at sea, not in body but in mind. The world seemed to shrink and crumble down. All that I thought I knew to be true, now, no longer were. All that I believed would happen were now lost and never ever to be found. Along came the 5 stages of Grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. Living in denial for weeks - months. The quickness of how it all happened, like a quick stab to the heart - one would not even know until he started bleeding. It left me in disbelief - that all that was happening around me and to me were real. Every day would become a struggle; mentally, physically and emotionally. Draining me of all my energy. Pain would become a friend through the course of this period. The only thing that gave me comfort.

Waking up at 7 am to start the day and working till around 8 pm. The jobs that were more laborious in terms of physical strength would become a favourite because of the physical pain involved. Holding the jet chisel, chipping away rust till your arms were numb or fixing things with your bare hands until something pricked you and cut you. The more cuts and bruises you had the better, And when all of that ended, I would go back to my cabin. The tiny cabin in which you were free to do whatever you wanted - to yourself...
Days with bad weather were welcomed with happiness because it makes you feel absolutely horrible. Constant churning of your innards, dizziness, nausea, lack of appetite. I have now come to accept that I'm a horrible person for doing the things I've done. Intrinsically a bad person who just can't stop fucking things up. It was hard to try and act normal through it all. You could not show that something was wrong to others, they would be concerned and would start asking questions - did not want that. Practiced smiling and laughing in the mirror. Short smile, wide smile, giggle, laughter each suited to various situations. That is how you got through.

You also lose faith in this period. That if there were really a God out there then would he not do something about this? Why would he let a person go through it? Why would he do it to you? Why has he not done something to stop it. God is not real. If he is, he does not care about you and you have no right to be mad at him because you brought this upon yourself. You do not deserve mercy. You do not deserve compassion. You do not deserve happiness.You are the scum of the earth. You do not deserve to be respected as a human being.

Found a rusted cutter while cleaning out a drawer, hid it in my pocket till the day ended. Went back to my cabin that night, stripped myself of all clothes. Stared at my naked body in the mirror; that face that had done so many wrongs. Made small tiny cuts near the left wrist, then the right wrist. Working my way up the forearms - criss-crossing the lines as they went up. Deeper and deeper. This became a routine for every day of every week for 8 months. Having worked all the way up to my shoulders with the cuts and since they had not yet healed; I moved on to my torso and chest. The more the days went by the deeper the cuts became. The more I practiced smiling in the mirror...
I have sneaked out to the deck after work hours during sunset so it is relatively dark so people will not see and stood on the railings; wanting to jump, the hypothermia would get to me within minutes. It would have been a wonderful way to go - nobody would have realized until the next morning. I have screamed into pillows and when that was not enough I have gone down to the engine room with the engine roaring while the engineers slept and screamed and screamed till my lungs gave out and my throat felt like it was going to rip apart.

Somewhere in between, I re-learnt how to splice rope. Had a small 2 foot long rope now in my possession. I have lost track of how many times I have contemplated suicide. I have not done it because of friends and family who still cared. They do not deserve that - to go through something like that. I could be selfish like I have always been or live and possibly make them happy in the future. I no longer cared for myself. So suicide was out of the question but pain and suffering and punishment was not. New year's eve came around and I sat in the dark making a resolution; to die.  Not a quick death but a slow painful, suffering one. I would wrap the rope around my neck and pull on it. Pull on it till it strangled me. Eyes would go red, face would swell up from all the blood unable to flow back to the heart. Breathing becomes heavy, veins pop up and you feel a burning sensation neck up. Pull and hold it till your vision gets blurry near the edges and breathing becomes shallow - till your face is twisted into something unrecognizable then let go of the rope. Catch your breath, let the swelling go down. Repeat.

This was Depression...

I'm very thankful for all the people in my life who have stayed with me and put up with all that I put them through during this period. Thank you very much for everything. If you're reading this and you relate to it; just know that it gets better. It really does. Because you're stronger than you think you are right now. You're more capable in getting through this, I believe in you. No matter how hopeless it seems. Just know that there will always be people to help you back up, who care about you and for you. Take on the entire world.

Stranger - Part 2

Part 1 - http://wispywisdom.blogspot.sg/2016/06/stranger-part-1.html

My head feels like I just got off a roller-coaster and got shot in the head at the same time. Where the heck am I? My arm - that's a needle in there. Faded white tiles cover the wall in front of me. I hear a constant beeping, harmonized with my heartbeat. The smell of ethanol and sweet smelling soaps hit my nostrils making me nauseous. I get up and pull the needle out of my arm and tear the plasters on my chest and arm. The machine which was beeping is now giving a constant high-pitched tone. I walk over to the bathroom. I feel dizzy, like I'm walking for the first time. My legs buckle. I grab the sink for support and stand up. I lift my face to the mirror. My face...

MY FACE! WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY FACE! What did they do to me. My face has changed. My face. I don't look the same as before the crash. What happened? Did they give me plastic surgery? Did they change my face? NO! I no longer look like David Cross. Who?! Who did this? I'm screaming. I'm shouting. I punch the mirror in rage. The broken pieces of the mirror distorts the reflection; I'm even more unrecognizable. I hear the clattering footsteps rushing towards the room. Doctors and nurses hold me down. I'm screaming as loudly as I can while I'm flailing my arms and legs. One of them pulls out a syringe. I feel the needle in my forearm. Everything fades to black...

I wake up again. Feels like a dream. The same faded white tiles, the same smell of ethanol, the same beeping. A man is sitting beside the bed on my right. He smiles. He has a comb-over, glasses, shirt and tie and a white coat over it. "Mr. Cross? Hi, I'm Dr. Patel. You've been in a serious crash. Do you remember?". This is news to me. I'm Cross? What the fuck? But my face. My face was different from his when I looked in the mirror just then. I nod. "Your friend sadly did not survive the crash. I'm sorry." he says in an apologetic tone that seems like he's done this quite a number of times. I give a half-smile and frown. "Can I see his picture?" I ask. He nods and gestures asking me to wait and walks out the room. I try to move my arms but they're held down by leather straps. Same goes for my legs. I prop myself up as best I can. Dr. Patel walks back in.

He smiles; that stupid fucking smile. Starting to get on my nerves now. I'm perfectly fine. He's treating me like I've been traumatized or insane. Stop it! I don't need your sympathy. "After your episode, you understand we had to make sure you wouldn't go haywire again." he explains as he hands me the photograph. David Cross in the picture looks like how I used to look before I ended up in this hospital. But I no longer look like myself. This all doesn't make sense to me...

A few months later... 

So where are we now? Harborough Mental Health Facility, that's where we are. Been making some good progress. Doc says I'm doing very well. Been taking my medicines and I'm almost fully rehabilitated. Got used to my new face. I look pretty handsome if you ask me. Anyway, I went in to get my final assessment from Dr. Patel. He says I'm good to go. All I need to do now is wait for them to process my details and I'll be a new free man. They don't know I meant to kill Cross - or whatever his name was. Otherwise, this story would have gone in a whole other direction. Turns out I was David Cross all along. But I didn't own any of the cars and bungalow and shit. Just my name. David Cross, new reformed and rehabilitated man!

So a few days pass; they're still processing my stuff - finding me a place to live and a sponsor and what not. I was just minding my business, walking around the cafeteria. This guard, he's giving my the funny look from the other end of the cafeteria. I don't like it. I'm perfectly fine. Need to show him a thing or two. So I walk over to confront him and guess what? HE FUCKING LOOKS LIKE ME...

Stranger - Part 1

The loud droning of the alarm wakes me up. I don't know if I can call myself a morning person, it's all just a matter of habit and routine. Walk into the bathroom and I see my face; probably need a shave. What's so special about me? What sets me apart from the folk you see walking down the street? How am I anymore unique than them? There isn't much to it really, I'm just your average guy; a face in the crowd. You'd have passed by me in the street and your brain wouldn't even have registered that you've seen me. I might end up as a person in your dream; I don't know. They say the faces you see in your dreams are ones that you've seen but don't consciously remember. So maybe somewhere in somebody's dream I am a face to be remembered, to be recalled. I practice smiling in the mirror. Different smiles, for different situations, different levels of amusement. They can't know what's really going on in my head. Look at that fucking face, disgusting. I want to cut it up with a fucking knife. Scar it all over, cut it up beyond recognition. Become somebody else altogether maybe. Start over. Hmm.

Work is shit. It drains the life out of me but if I wasn't working what the fuck else would I be doing? You fucking no good loser. You deserve nothing, absolutely nothing. I sometimes wish life was better but at the same time, I sometimes feel like this is all I'm entitled to. I see Donna smiling and flirting with some guy as I walk past the' admin' desk. That fuckin' whore screwing every guy in the office; she'll get it from me. She will. What do I do, you ask? Oh not much really, a low-level scum in the corporate world. A paper pusher literally, a mail boy... Yeah I deliver fucking mail within the office building. A mail boy! A nobody. But how funny things work out; change after all is the only constant in all of our lives.

I was just going about my job. Went into the new guy's office, some high position - prick didn't even acknowledge my presence in the room. Why would you, right? He had his chair turned away from the door and was busy talking on the phone. I walk over and place this tube thing that had his name and I looked up at the glass window and I see his reflection. Multiple waves of pins seemed to go from my head down. He looked exactly like ME! Every single detail on his face. Holy shit... I couldn't believe my eyes. I blinked rapidly to make sure what I was seeing was true. "You can go now. Thanks." he tells me in his disdainful tone without even looking back.

This guy, David Cross; I needed to know more about this man. What he does, where he lives, who he's with. I am obsessed. I've been following him for a month now. His life! My God his life is amazing. What I'd give to have a life like that. Senior partner at the firm, a company car, a bungalow in the suburbs and his wife or partner or whatever. Oh my God! What I'd give to have that. I've incorporated this into my routine, every Monday and Wednesday night; I get off about 5 blocks from the house, jog up to the bungalow. I always dress like I'm going for a run - less suspicious. I've watched them through the bushes and crouched under their windows. I've seen him cook, seen her clean, watched them make love in the bedroom...

I do believe it to be fate or Providence maybe. That my - what do they call it? Some German sounding word - doppelganger has to be revealed to me and he ends up having a better life than me; practically everything that I want. Humans are in a never ending chase, spending their entire life trying to become happy. But they don't see it as having enough rather they find the need to have more than the other guy. That's what determines success and happiness. "I've made it!" means I'm better off than the rest of the filthy scum. We end up comparing whatever we have to everyone else around us. I know I'm unhappy. I'm sure Cross is unhappy too despite having everything I would want. He sure seems unhappy; I see it in the way he kisses her, the way he looks at his car or his house, the way he interacts with his "friends". He's tired of life as well. Look at him, lying unconscious in the passenger seat, all tied up. WE'RE GOING FOR A RIDE, DAVID! You're not coming back. I'm doing you a favour if you think about it. I'll gladly take your place! Get you away from this life that you so hate. You're crazy! Who me? I'm not crazy. I'm fine. Perfectly fine. New life. That job, the bungalow, this car all ours now! Going to fuck that broad first thing. HAHAHAHAHAHA...

I've been driving the Mercedes for a good 2 hours now along the highway. The drugs should last 4 hours. Enough time. We're far from the city now, I've turned into a side road away from the main highway. The roads are lined with thick dense woods on either side. Anywhere would be good. Just need a place to hide the car, in case someone comes along the road. Then it's bye-bye to you Mr. Cross. HAHA. Almost a peaceful way to go, if you ask me.
FUCK, He fucking woke up! What the fuck. I had 2 more hours. Motherfucker punched me in the eye. Can't fucking see where I'm going - am I bleeding?. Lost control of the car. I'm throwing my fist at him. I can feel my hand connect to his cheek. I'm frantically trying to steer with my other hand. Don't panic. We got this. Oh fuck...


Part 2 - http://wispywisdom.blogspot.sg/2016/06/stranger-part-2.html

Everything is Preordained - Part 2

The being's face was expressionless; it showed no sense of emotion or feeling after having uttered a phrase so grave and grim. "People need to die, of course that happens on a daily basis. Natural deaths, diseases, hunger, murders, suicides; men, women and children. Everybody has to die eventually but once every few hundred years we need death and destruction on a much larger scale; a kind of reset button that has to be pushed. We had the plagues before but with man exploring, discovering and developing the sciences to advance the methods of warfare, I figured why not?"

The man tried to listen patiently trying to quell his now throbbing heart that beat like a drum. "Humans are the most developed animals on this Earth and yet your categorizations - things that you've come to perceive by your own - causes conflicts among yourselves. Race, religion, gender, political ideology - all things that you have created to distinguish yourselves from one another. Your need to be different, to stand out and be special drives you into conflicts, into WAR. Of course, you cannot expect them to be perfect beings. If everyone was perfect, there wouldn't be a God. A figure to look up to in times of need, times when you feel a divine intervention is necessary. Someone who is perfect and can guide you; that's when you look up and pray do you not? Despite countless opportunities that have been presented before the human race to turn from this behavior and to unite as one and live peacefully; you have failed repeatedly. Sin has become the norm. War is the solution to peace. Conflict after conflict that has no absolute resolution. I cannot send a 'Jesus' every time to die for your sins. I've given the choice to you and can merely guide you to the righteous path, what you choose at the end of the day is entirely your choice." the figure's voice was no longer calm and soothing. Anger and rage seemed to be physically manifested into the words that spat out from its mouth

"So your intentions just happened to align with my vision and goal for the human race? What if I had chosen differently? What if I never became the most feared tyrant in the world, then what?" asked the man, his curiosity aroused and his anger building. "If not you then someone else. Someone somewhere will have surely carried out mass killings, not your choice of people in particular but surely people would have died. What is the death of millions if it means I can save billions? It becomes an example, a sign that humans need to unite and stand together. Put their differences apart and come together. Death surprisingly does that - always brings people closer than life ever has and will. They'll learn what not to do and build a new world from these ashes. But of course some other sort of conflict will soon occur in a matter of decades because they will lose sight of where to go once again, the process repeats over and over like a circle." explained the being, now calmer and more conserved.

"So I ended up doing all the dirty work for you... A mere pawn in your elaborate chess game. But why me? Why not use some divine intervention?" questioned the man. "Divine intervention would mean something akin to God or God himself. If it wasn't God and God didn't stop it then what good is he? If it was God and he did it then is God truly good? People will question the power of God and then the existence. That cannot happen. People cannot know God is both good and evil... God has to be pure, God has to be all things good because if he possessed both opposing qualities then in the minds of the people, he is no different than themselves. He loses his power and divine status among them. He will no longer be pure in their eyes and that is when the blind sheep become blinder and stray from the herd heading straight for the cliff. One by one they will follow each other throwing themselves over until the whole herd is dead. The moment the belief in God no longer exists is when the destruction of the human race begins. The devil himself is merely an agent to God's will. 'I am the Alpha and the Omega' - the beginning and the end. 'The Lord gives and the Lord taketh away." Likewise, you were just an agent despite your thinking that this was all your will. Your rising to power, the death and destruction of millions of people, your wrong move to attack in winter, your loss in the war and now your death. I have seen everything, I know what is going to happen, I just choose not to change the outcome for that is how it needs to be. Everything is Preordained." the figure rose from the bed and walked over to the man.

"They're at the door..." it said.

"So tell me, how do I die?" said the man nodding and smirking having accepted his fate, whatever was preordained for him.

The figure smiled back. "Of course..." it said as its extremities began to fade until it vanished completely.

Metallic clanking came from the door as the enemy soldiers tried to crack it open. The man pulled out his revolver from its holster and checked the cylinder; six bullets was all that he had to stop whoever, whatever was behind the door. The man cocked the gun with his right hand and rested it on the arms of the chair aiming directly at the door. A small sudden blast blew through the metal lock on the door flinging it open. Smoke and dust erupted from the entrance blinding the soldiers momentarily. "I'm going to hell anyway right?" muttered the man as he looked up and raised the pistol. The click of the hammer and another short bang rang throughout the room. The soldiers took cover expecting a rain of bullets. But no other sound followed. They moved into the room cautiously with their rifles raised. The revolver fell from the man's hands. His mouth ajar and eyes looking up such that the soldiers could only see the whites of his eyes. A splatter of blood on the velvet cushion behind his head told everything the soldiers needed to know. It was over. It was preordained...

Everything is Preordained - Part 1

The pipes bellowed like a large monster waking from its slumber as the people stood up with heavy books in their hands, their faces in expressionless unison. The air was thick with smog and the walls of the church seemed like they could crumble at the slightest touch. The congregation started to sing as the words that came out of their mouths sounded more like chanting than singing. The choral voices and the bellowing of the organ metamorphosed into an angrier, larger monster. Voices of different pitches and loudness fighting one another to stand out.

Suddenly, the earth began to shake with the intensity increasing with every note of the organ. The voices were drowned by the sound of concrete crashing down. The sirens began to sound like a wailing child. The congregation turned into a stampede of animals rushing to the only exit as they trampled over the holy books and each other. The man in the robes at the alter was shouting, trying to get everyone to calm down for God was with them. "Do not be afraid my brothers and sister, we are in the house of the Lord. He will protect us." But this too was drowned by the blasts and the screaming of women and children. As the priest stretched out his arms to show that there was no safer place than inside the church itself, the roof came crashing down on him. His arms still outstretched but not moving. "Mama! Papa!" children cried in despair. The raging inferno engulfed everything in and around it. People ran in every direction, hurt and in pain - sometimes in flames. Bomb after bomb rained down from the sky as the earth shook in horror. The streets were covered in dust and dead bodies.

High in the fortified tower, a lone room was locked and heavily guarded by men with rifles in uniform. Men willing to protect and die for the man inside the room. The man of the year. The room had a large king sized bed with birch frames beside which stood a drawer with a table lamp on it. On the far right corner of the room a man was sitting on a chair covered in velvet cushions and gold. His worn-out brown uniform decorated with numerous medals and patches. His eyes were dark, his face worn and expressionless as he put the tips of his fingers together resting his elbows on the arms of the chair. He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly and slowly closed his eyes, listening to the thudding of the bombs and the screams of innocent lives. No natural light entered the room save a tiny opening the size of a brick to his left from which he could see the world perish - if he wanted to. Bright flashes of crimson filled his closed eye lids as sirens wailed and structures crumbled.

"What are you thinking?" asked a voice. The voice of a man, so soothing, so familiar - like how he had imagined it his whole life. The man opened his eyes slowly and looked up. A strange figure stood before him, it seemed to glow and shimmer despite the lack of light. The being was dressed in some kind of white robe, the whitest he had seen. The man squinted his eyes to get a clearer look at the face but could not quite see it. The figure crossed its hands together and leaned in as if to urge the man to give him an answer. The man's furrows brows widened as intrigue gave way to recognition and relief. "You?! I was expecting the other guy..." he said in a tone of surprise with a tinge of disappointment.

"I just wanted to talk to you, you know before"

"Before I'm shot to death..." said the man completing the sentence. "Why though? How does it matter? Is my fate not already sealed? What could you possibly want to talk about?" questioned the man. The figure stood silent, hands still clasped together. "I know that you want to say and ask a few things, so go on..." urged the figure. The sirens and screaming seemed to have stopped. Silence filled the room. The world seemed to stand still.

"What I have done are all justified in my eyes. They're what I wanted, what I desired for this world. Absolute destruction." said the man after a lot of thought, playing the conversation in his head. "That is correct, you're considered history's greatest tyrant. What you've done will forever be remembered, studied, analysed. People will write stories, books even about you and your actions. Your legacy." said the figure.

"My question is, if all of it is wrong then why did you stand by and watch? Why didn't you stop it? You could've stopped it right from the beginning. Nipped it in the bud. But you didn't! You stood and watched. So tell me why? Why me?!" said the man filled with rage as he sunk his nails deep into the arms of the chair. The figure slowly walked over to the bed and sat down, all the while silent and staring at the man, almost as if it could see into his soul. It brought its hands together and put the tips to its lips. The room was cloaked in silence.

Finally it spoke "Kill a few to save the many."