:Thanks for reading please comment and give me your thoughts or advice:
September 25, 2020
What is the reason for living? This question has been pondered for millennia but why is it that no sufficient answer has been calculated? I do not claim to know the answer. I would also like to have the answer to that question. The massive cults of worshipers of the "Higher Powers" tell us that there is a reason for our existence , but fail to say what that reason is. They say that only He knows. While that is just fine and dandy, I would like to have at least a small hint.
I have failed to find the reason for my existence. I am twenty-two years old and within the past year I have lost nearly everything I had. This past summer my father died of asbestos poisoning from when he worked in the mill. He may have been sixty-three years old, but I find it hard to believe that he would let something like that bring him down. He already knew to stay out of the heat and didn't do any strenuous activities that would make his lungs give out the rest of the way. I believe that the main reason for his death is that he gave up on living. February of this year my mother and her brother were murdered by something that mauled and bit them. The officials tried to say that it was some kind of animal attack, but I did a little research on the area near where they were vacationing. I found out that there were reports of many other attacks like that , yet there was nothing being done about the animals which were supposedly attacking people.
Well, if it wasn't an animal, what was it? That I cannot say. I wish I knew, but I did find out that a company that had been accused of cruelty to animals had its base of operations near there. It was called Future Tech. They had been conducting experiments on animals, and when they got caught, the government just slapped them on the wrist and let it be. So if it was an animal that killed my mother and uncle, I am fairly certain that it was one that escaped from them. They never could match the wounds to any known animal, so something was up.
Whether or not they were the cause of all of my pain is still to be proven. I do know this though. After my mother and uncle died, my father started drinking heavily. I believe that my father simply gave up on living because the things he loved were being taken from him. I will never know. It's over now. Nothing can be changed.
* * * * *
The bright morning sun glared at me through the window next to my bed. Its rays warmed my face and blinded me even without me having to open my eyes. I throw my arm across my eyes and groan for a moment. Why do I even need to get up?
As I begin to question whether or not I really want to get up, I hear a noise that reminds me why I need to hurry up and get out of here since I have been woken up. It sounds like something is dying and giving its final cry. The sound makes me want to cry out myself but I do not. As the sound echoes through the house and rattles the shingles, I flip the covers off of me. My bones crack and pop as I stretch and twist them. I slip on my jeans and button up shirt then put on my boots and hat. I sigh as I look at my reflection in the mirror. My dark almost burnt looking skin is littered with small scars and pecks and my face has the look of someone who has not slept in eons. My dark brown hair hangs below my shoulders and is about the only thing that doesn't look aged nearly to death.
I look down at the dresser where a leather belt is coiled up like a snake. The belt has many loops where small bullets are placed and holster with gun in it is on one side. I pick up the belt and wrap it around my waist. I hook the buckle and tie the holster to my right leg. From the holster I pull the heavy stainless steel Taurus .357. The balance is perfect. The black synthetic handle has enough grip to make sure you don't drop it. The gun was my father's, but he sold it when he started drinking. It took me quite some time to track the new owner down and way too much money to get it back. Now it just reminds me of how far people can fall if pushed hard enough.
I slide the gun back in the holster and head out the door stomping just as much as I can to make my little brother wake up. I know it is no use but I do it anyways. He is the last thing I have left but I can't stay with him and watch over him or we will not have money to eat with. So I leave the house locking the door behind me and head into town. My old Chevy truck whines as it cranks and I rattle my way to the bar.
I don't drink but this little joint called the sweet water bar and grill is where my father used to come. The owner knows how rough it has been so he just lets me come there to relax. As I pull up the the place and as usual there isn't a whole lot going on. The one thing that I do find odd is the black cadilac sitting outside. I have never seen it here before. Maybe one of the resident rich people has had a fight with there gold digger and come to drink it away. It doesn't really matter though.
When I walk through the door I smell the stench of beer and sweat mixed with cigarett smoke. There in the corner of the bar is a man in a black suit sitting at the table alone. He has a leather briefcase and is drinking some sort of mixed drink.
I go to the front and sit on the bar stool. The owner comes over to me and sets a glass of dark black coffee in front of me. He is balled with a long Grey beard and stands in front of me cleaning a shot glass with his rag. I know what it means when he walks around doing this. He is nervous. I guess that the man in black means trouble, and since we are the only ones in the bar, I can only assume that it is trouble for me.
"He asked for you by name," the bartender says never looking up from his glass, "he's also got a friend outside. Don't do anything reckless."
I can hear the worry in his voice, but it does not matter. I have been challenged before, and I know how to make it out alive. This is a small town with very few people in it and even less law. When people think they won't have to face consequences they will gladly break the law. I have always hated this about people. They would hurt others for no reason at all. They do it simply because they can. For the last few months I have been cleaning up this town. Which meant doing a few not so legal things myself. Now they call me the gunslinger.
I pick up my coffee as I turn to walk over to the man. He does not move at all as I draw near. He takes a sip of his drink as I sit down across from him. I sit my coffee on the table and we lock eyes. Neither one of us moves. The only sounds are the tick tock of the clock on the wall and the squeak of the bartender cleaning his glass.
After sitting for a moment, the man slowly opens his briefcase. From it he pulls out a stack of pictures and tosses them on the table with a clack. They spread as he throws them allowing me to see what they are. What I see makes my stomach turn. I feel the coffee trying to climb back up my throat. My blood begins to boil. My teeth are clenched and my fist balled under the table.
What I see is the same thing I saw in February. There on those pieces of paper are the same mauled distorted bodies of my mother and uncle that I see in my sleep. I can feel the rage welling up inside of me, and I know I am about to explode. Wait a minute though. This man, who is he? Why does he have these pictures? I know that getting angry will not answer these questions.
I want so badly just to beat this man to a pulp just for making me have to see this again, but I stop myself before I lose it. Deep breathes let my body cool back down and I release my tensed muscles.
"What are you trying to pull," I ask forcibly, "who are you anyways?"
"Do you know who did this to your family," he replies ignoring my question, "would you like to see justice served?"
"So what," I say mockingly, "are you trying to tell me that you know who did it but you want something from me in return is that it?"
"You catch on rather quickly Mr. Grey," he replies. I can't tell if he is mocking me or serious he is so monotoned that it hurts. "What I want from you is something that will benefit you more than me," he continues, "what would you say if I told you that I could make you stronger than any human should ever be? What if I told you that not only could you stop others from being hurt like you have been but you could help stop all crime, murder, and terrorism?"
"I would say that you were lying and ask once again, who the Fuck are you," I replied anger in my voice.
"It is no lie Mr. Grey," he continues once again dodging my question. He reaches into his briefcase and pulls out more pictures. These show different people doing things that seem fake. One guy is shooting fire out of his hands, one is made of steel, and another is walking on walls. "If you come with me, I can give you an ability like that," he says.
He watches as my mind ponders over what I am seeing before me. "How am I supposed to know this is real," I ask skeptically, "you can make anything look good on paper."
Just as soon as I spoke those words I felt a hand land on my shoulder. I jerked back and reached around to grab whoever it was. My hand landed on something but I could see nothing. After a second, a figure appeared hands raised with part of his shirt balled up in my hand. "And if you are wondering," the man in black said, "no he has no kind of cloaking device. He can become invisible at will." I let go of the man and he left the bar. I turn back toward the sketchy man at the table who had a slight smirk on his face. "Now that I have your attention would you like to know who caused you family members' death?" When I say nothing he continues, "you know the company called Future Tech that was accused of experimenting on animals. Well they have had several experiments go missing and as a result many people have died at the hands of these escaped experiments. What you need to do is come with us," he says, "we will give you your powers train you and help you destroy the ones who killed your family."
I already know this is a load of bullshit that he is tossing me. For some reason I expected a better pickup line than that. I know that what he really wants is for me to do his biding because he stands to gain from my revenge. The only problem is that I just can't pass this up. Why would he come find me and toss my pain back up in my face if at least some of what he said was true. If he is lying whose to say that I have to do what he wants. I never let the other folks around the table see all of my cards.
"I can see that you have come to a decision," he says nodding slightly, " there is just one thing we need to do before we get started." I can hear footsteps coming up behind me now. I turn to see what's happening, but before I can do anything they are within reaching distance of me. A hand wraps around my mouth from behind me. There is a cloth in the hand. The cloth stinks. I think there is something on it. My head feels light. I can't keep my eyes open. I can't believe im going to sleep now.