Two men exit their car in unison in the dead of night. They are both clad in tacky, colorful button-ups and aviator sunglasses, and each have a pistol on their hip. They are Agent 1 and Agent 2. They both walk confidently up the sidewalk and onto the porch of a house in a quiet suburban neighborhood. There is nobody home. Agent 1, however, already knows where to find the key to the front door. He reaches his hand into a watering can sitting on a bench. He pulls out the house key and a note thanking the two agents for their discretion and professionalism. Agent 1 inserts the key, turns it, and heads into the house along with Agent 2.
The house is empty and quiet. The agents head directly to the kitchen. They stop in the middle of the room, and Agent 1 looks into the pantry. He scans the shelves for a moment, until he spots a box of rice. He grabs the rice and takes it out of the pantry and onto the counter next to the sink.
The two agents stare at the box for a little while, before Agent 2 quietly says, “We know what you are.”
After a moment, the box starts to twitch. Then it sprouts eyes and a mouth. The agents are not swayed by this.
The box is nervous. In a shaking voice it says, “I know why you're here. Please, please don't do this.”
Agent 2 pulls out his pistol and begins to screw on a silencer.
The box shouts, “Please! I won't ever move again! I won't even speak! Plea…”
The box’s plea is cut short by the distinct pew of Agent 2’s pistol.
Uncooked white rice spewed as the force of the bullet sends the box onto its back. But the box has not died yet. It lets out pained groans as Agent 1 grabs it from the counter. It is spilling its innards as he drops it on the ground. The box is still groaning. The agents both stomp the box into a pile of cardboard tatters and rice. But the bits still vibrate with life. Agent 1 takes out a match, lights it, and drops it onto what is left of the box to fully kill it.
After a moment, Agent 1 snuffs out the flames. The agents are about to leave when red and blue lights bleed through the windows, followed by blaring police sirens.
Agent 1 immediately rushed out of the house through the back door, but Agent 2 is frozen in fear. After a moment, Agent 2 snaps out of it and follows in Agent 1's path. He runs through multiple backyards and jumps multiple fences until he reaches the edge of the woods outside the neighborhood. He stops and catches his breath behind a tree, and then he sees a flashlight.
The flashlight creeps around the tree and splays its shadow in front of Agent 2. It moves slowly from left to right and then stops. Agent 2 knows that he was spotted. He quickly jumps onto the person and pins them on the ground. He clenches his fist and chambers his arm, but he recognizes the man.
He recognizes the man as Alex, someone he knows from high school. Alex, in turn, recognizes Agent 2 as well. They both stand up and Alex offers to let Agent 2 stay with him until things blow over. Agent 2 agrees.
Alex leads Agent 2 through the forest and eventually towards a tall, dilapidated house. We enter the house and Agent 2 is met with a tall, rickety ladder that leads to another floor. Alex assures him that it is safe by climbing it. Agent 2 follows.
Agent 2 carefully climbs the ladder behind Alex and emerges into the second floor. He looks around the room and sees shelves populated with test tubes full of yellow liquids. There are two beds, both sitting on a floor made of just a few wooden boards with significant gaps between them.
There is another person in the room, sitting on one of the beds. Alex tells Agent 2 that his name is A.J.. A.J. is facing the wall and sitting in a cross-legged position. There is a sound coming from him, like the sound of a pitcher filling up a glass. Agent 2 realizes that he is urinating into some kind of beaker or test tube. He is disgusted.
Before he has the chance to comment on it, he feels the buzz of his phone in his pocket. He checks and sees that Agent 1 has sent him a text message.
It reads, "i'm sorry for leaving you back there. if you come find me this can be over. youll never have to do any of this again."
YOU ARE READING
Dream Diary
Short StoryA log of any interesting dreams I have, rewritten to work a little better as stories.
