I
I woke up from the sound of a gunshot, punctuating the calm silence of the night. Sitting upright with my arms behind my back, suddenly aware of my gradual breathing. Attempting to get out of the bed but became irresolute the moment my toes met some viscous substance. I switch on the lamplight beside the bed, look down and realize that it seems most likely to be a pool of vomit. That is judging by the color and texture of it. But how did it get there, I thought, considering I can't remember an instance before sleep restrained my body when I expelled this mess out of me. I slid the thought out my mind and proceeded to walk toward the open window. Standing before it, I saw how one-by-one the windows started to lit up. As though watching me eerily, with the cool wind as its hands creeping on my skin like centipedes. I turned my head back without moving and glance at the clock, which registered that it is now eleven fourty eight, then back again at the almost completely lit neighboring apartment building. Watching this, I now fully understood that the sound I heard wasn't part of the dream I merely remember in pieces. In which I can now only discern as a horrible mixture of screeching metallic noises and a scream, burned on my memory like some horrible music. Apart from that I had a glimpse of uncanny formations of light. All scattered, dancing like falling leaves under a waning moon and a glittering sky. Few minutes from now someone will come and handle whatever is actually going on. I paced the room to the drawers opposite the bed. Opening the topmost one, and after groping through endless tiny boxes, empty containers, and mostly crumpled papers, my hand withdraw a pack of cigarettes and lighter. Lit one up and began breathing its contents. To pass time I decided to lie down again on the bed; staring at absolute nothing, letting my thoughts wander around the room with my smoke, emerging for an instant then disappears as if a faint ghostly feeling that haunts people everyday. I was in that kind of set up just waiting for something to happen, when the agents materialize above. Against the blackness was the flitting of their hovercraftsʼ lights. Then they immediately came down, placing the engines adjacent to the entryway of the building. Smoking another round, I watched from the window three guys clad in the same manner come out from each of their rides. Although there were three, I already anticipated that more will surely come. Experts. Journalists. More investigators. And all that was done throughout the night will be revealed. Dawn is now approaching, reaching for its peak; unveiling its redblood glow.
