It was a rainy, but beautiful night; the moon and stars shone brightly, reflecting off of the small puddles of water formed by the pouring rain. There were many houses along the street casting long shadows down to the ground, and creating a very vivid image. A man walked down the street calmly and quietly, not minding the rain at all, in point of fact he enjoyed it. The man was wearing a large brown overcoat, and squared glasses, which were mostly covered by his soaking brown hair. Suddenly the man turned very quickly despite his large frame. He saw a small boy standing in the rain, crying, nothing could be heard now, not even the rain and yet as if from some far off memory he heard the boy crying, just standing there crying. The man turned away and closed his eyes, leaving his memory standing there, he did not want to see the rest, it ended terribly. The man continued down the street, he saw more of the dead, more of his deeds. They haunted him every night, they writhe around, they wither and die, and no matter how much the man tries to forget he cannot, for he has killed these men, these women and these children. The man opens his eyes to see one image left in front of him, standing there looking into his brown eyes with her blue ones, until finally she asked her question, whispering in a small rasping voice, “why?” the man tries to respond, but cannot he finds himself incapable of speech. Blood began to run down her face, and things became very dark he could only see her now she reached out to him and touched his face, leaving prints of wet blood.

Dezmund shot up in bed, breathing heavily and sweating. He looked around and saw that he was alone. It was raining outside; Dezmund could see and hear it on his 7th floor window. He pulled away his lavish, thick comforter and got up off of his queen sized bed. He walked over to the window and looked outside into the dark. Street lights glowed their gloomy light on the streets below, and every once in a while a car would drive by. Dezmund closed the curtains on his window and looked around once more, eyes passing over his bed, his shelves with many books, and his small dresser until his eyes reached the door that led to his bathroom. He reached for the crystal knob and opened the hard oak door, revealing the room on the other side. Dezmund walked in his bathroom was very large and luxurious bathroom. On the right was the bathroom sink, it was big, and metal but crafted elegantly. The handles and faucet were also metal. The entire bathroom was designed around these dull grey colors. The shower was tall, with a large metal tub at the bottom that could act as a hot-tub. Other than the regular things you’d find in a bathroom, it was bare, nothing hung on the white walls except the large mirror above the sink. No décor, in fact nothing hung on the walls anywhere in the house. Nothing to give it character. The only thing that Dezmund really owned was clothes, books, and of course weapons.

Dezmund looked into the mirror, gazing into his own brown eyes. He ran the water in the sink, and splashed some into his face, the water was cold, and he immediately wiped it off the white towel that lay next to him. Dezmund looked to his right, picked up his toothbrush and brushed his teeth for exactly two minuets and thirty seconds before he spit it back into the sink. He then combed his scraggly brown hair.

Dezmund left the house at exactly five-forty-five, dressed in his suit, with his fake ID’s in his wallet. On his way out the door he stopped and reached under his bed, pulling out a large black duffle and slinging it over his shoulder

To Dezmund, this was just another job that paid extremely well, but to somebody else this was a family member, a father, a husband, and most importantly to his contractor, a multi-millionaire who ran a large business corporation that had angered many people. He watched the large man lumbering around on the ground a mile away through the scope of his rifle. He adjusted the coordinates so the wind would have the desired effect. Dezmund took in a steady and long breath before he counted down from five. Four.three.two.one. he pulled the trigger, and the gun boomed, a single fifty caliber bullet flying out of the tip. He pulled out his binoculars, sun rays bouncing off of them as he did so, and looked. He saw the man lying on the ground, arms flailing in his expensive suit as he slowly died from the shot to his heart. The man began to stop struggling, and finally, after a few minutes lost his grip on life. ‘Now he is just another dead body lying in a pool of his own blood’ Dezmund thought, ‘ waste of a perfectly good suit though.’ Dezmund packed up and walked back to his car, now he had to move quickly, cops would be surrounding the area any minuet.

It was a sunny bright day out, a man walked silently in his boots through a field of cattails, feeling them with his hand at each step. This man was Dezmund. Out of nowhere was the sea of dead, the men and women and children he had brutally murdered, but today there was a new face, and Dezmund saw him walking toward him. The sky grew dark as the small wispy stratus clouds turned to raging cumulonimbus. The sea of dead flurried in no particular pattern, they were reenacting the last actions before there death. Screams could be heard, echoing sharply and floating through the air. The sound was overwhelming. Dezmunds' hands shot to his ears, and he closed his eyes shut, but he could still hear them, moaning, screaming. Dying. Dezmund opened his eyes but all he saw was blood, soon he was surrounded in the sea of red, it suffocated him, drowning him. Dezmund began to choke, blood filling his lungs and just when he was on the brink of death he awoke, immediately right awake and looking around. As was customary. Dezmund still felt like he was drowning. “These dreams have never been this bad” Dezmund exclaimed as he sat there. Dezmund then got up, throwing the silken sheets aside, and left.