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Theodore
I sat on the couch, rifle in hand. Teddy bear on the floor, staring…watching with those beady little eyes watching me. Waiting for me to do something about its unemotional face and still black holes for eyes. I couldn’t stand the fact that I was just waiting, watching emotionless. I stood from the couch giving the bear one swift kick to the abdominals, launching it across the room, slamming into the adjacent wall. I‘d had it with the bear all the time never changing never ever moving. I set the bear in the middle and grabbed my rifle setting up behind the couch preparing to fire. Geez, that bear reminded me of poop.
My breathing slowed, all around me went still. My heart skipped. I gripped the rifle, pulling it tighter against my shoulder. My index finger rested on the trigger. I exhaled slowly making sure to not lose sight of my target. Then it happened. I pulled back the trigger dropped the hammer shot a bullet directly at my target. The sound rang inside my head, bouncing around like a bouncy ball. Little fibers of cotton rained down from the ceiling as I looked and saw my target was no longer. The body of the teddy bear sat straight up with cotton bleeding from the neck. I refocused setting my sights for the stomach. I slowed my breathing, once again gripping my rifle. I exhaled pulling the trigger. Bang. Cotton fell from the ceiling making it seem as if it was snowing. I smiled feeling relieved as the last thing I had of her was now all over the living room in little pieces of white fluff. I shouldered my rifle and walked over to the fridge opened it and grabbed some orange juice. Accomplishment ran over my face as I took a swig.
The feelings I had evaporated as I realized the amount of sound that the gun had made. A low roar echoed from outside. They were coming. My pulse was quickened as I tried to figure out where to hide, or where to run to. I moved towards the front door but they were already banging on the other side, trying to reach me, Trying to turn me into one of them with their deadly bite. I rushed to the back of the house where there was a window to escape through. I turned the corner but there he was my best friend, His hand was pushing the window up slowly. My heart sank. My jaw dropped. How did this happen? When did it happen? The last time I saw him was at school two days ago, when the world crashed in front of my eyes. My throat began to close and tears swelled in my eyes. Why him? Why me? Why was everything fighting against me in this apocalyptic time? Tears streamed down my face as the reality of my situation landed on me like the ceiling had fallen. I gasped for air. I couldn’t find the strength to cry and breathe at the same time. I fell to my knees. In all my emotions and crying the world didn’t stop around me. He was now half way through the window and the other mindless freaks started breaking the glass of the windows in the front of the house. I curled into a ball on the floor waiting.
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All are lunatics, but he who can analyze his delusions is called a philosopher.<br /> Ambrose Bierce