Omnipotent #OnceUponNow #JustWriteIt

The Sun Has Fallen

The waitress came back with an apologetic look on her face. "The credit card reader isn't working. But the good news for you is that the owner has offered to waive the charges for any patrons who came in before it broke."

"Nonsense," said Thomas. "I'll pay in cash." He took out his wallet and checked for bills. Only a couple of one's he'd been planning on using for the tip. "Hey Timothy, you don't happen to have any cash, do you?"

"Nope, I prefer to never have any on my person. It's much safer. But there's a gas station across the street which could probably get you some."

The waitress protested, saying that they really needn't bother, but Thomas insisted. "I need to buy a new pair of sunglasses anyway, and gas stations usually have a couple nice pairs," he said.

As he got up and walked outside, leaving Timothy to hold the table, he realized how dark it had gotten since they'd entered the restaurant. But it really wasn't much of a walk, and, because he could see both the lights of the gas station and the lights of the restaurant, he figured he'd have no trouble getting there and back.

The two-lane road wasn't busy this time of day, so he was able to quickly cross the road and enter the gas station. He browsed the sunglasses, finding a pair with blue tinted glass that he liked, and walked up to the counter. As the cashier was ringing him up, he noticed a sunglasses case with a picture of Genie from the Disney movie Aladdin. Remembering his thought earlier about how the ring seemed to grant wishes, he added the case to the purchase with the thought that it would be fun to show Timothy. He swiped his debit card and added a request for $40 in cash, which the cashier gave him. Picking up his purchases, he walked out the door and into the slightly chilly night.

As he walked back to the restaurant, he stopped a few feet past the edge of the gas station's lights, where he could see the stars easily. He looked up at the moon, straining to see if he could feel it's rhythm. As usual, he couldn't. If only he could. He'd love t---

Someone grabbed him from behind.

"Not a word." whispered a gruff voice in his ear as a man held what must be a gun to his back.

Terror shot through Thomas. He struggled slightly, and the man knocked him in the head, sending him to the ground. Thomas's vision swam, and all he could see was a figure standing over him with something reflective pointed at him. The man bent down, picked Thomas back up, and set him on his feet.

"Now, give me your wallet. No struggling, no calling for help, nothing, or I shoot you." The man declared quietly.

Thomas fumbled in his pocket and accidently let out a sob. Like a viper, the man's fist flung out and struck him on the head again. Thomas almost fell, but the man's grip held him up. He pulled Thomas closer and talked right into his face. His breath stank, and little bits of spit flew on Thomas's face as the man spoke.

"Now, what did I say about making noise? You're lucky I don't just shoot you, but I'm a kind man and don't really want to do that. Now just get me the wallet and we'll be all right. Got that, sonny?"

Thomas reached for his pocket, still held up by his assailant. The rhythms were fuzzy as if he were hearing them through a bad radio. His mind couldn't think clearly. Strangely, as the entire world seemed to swirl, he noticed a new rhythm. He closed his eyes, focusing on it. As he numbly looked for its source, he realized that it was actually coming from himself. He'd never noticed it before through the noise of the surrounding world, but now it was the only thing he could focus on.

Turning inward as the man continued to grasp his shoulder, he listened to the rhythm. It was a wild rhythm, pulsing in a strange way that was different from the constant rhythms of objects or the flowing rhythms of animals and people. He didn't know what it was, but the terror drove him to act on instinct. He focused the rhythm, changed it, and, all of a sudden, he was across the street.

Thomas opened his eyes as a terrible cry filled the night. Strangely, he could still feel the man's grip on him. He looked down, and horror replaced the terror that had filled him. There, still gripping his shoulder, was the man's hand.

With nothing attached.

Thomas almost threw up. The hand was mutilated as if it had been in a horrible accident. As he watched, the hand began to disappear, little bits at a time, exacerbating the already ghastly situation.

The cries of anguish continued, and something took over Thomas. He ran back across the street to where he'd been only moments before, taking no notice of the possibility of being run over. He got to the man as his mind tried in vain to overcome the horror that filled him.

The man wasn't crying anymore. In fact, no noise came from him whatsoever. As the figure began to slump to the ground, Thomas got one quick look at his face. That is, what used to be his face, for instead of facial features such as a nose and mouth, all that was left was a skull. His mind shut down as the horror overwhelmed him, and he passed out.