The Man with the Gun

Light streaks through the window.  Eight stripes from blinds highlight the floor.  The spare light shows a solitary figure tucked in the corner of a barren room.  John shakes violently.  His thirty seven years curl him into a psychological pretzel.  Muttering about delusions.  He’ll shift side to side. Light catches the barrel of a Colt 45, his trembling hands hide the rest.

The full moon creeps into view.  The smile of the Manin the Moon finds John.  It says I found you.  It creeps across the floor deliberately.
“Go away! Leave me be! Go, go, go! Away with you!” John shouts.  Hisar enter body thrusts side to side to avoid the moonlight.

His mind lost in delusions of the last time the full moon came for him.  He props up against the left wall.

Twenty eight days ago, a teenager knocked on the door.  The kid clad in the Union Jack riding a Jap bike. The Man in the Moon sent him.  John knew it.  He told the Man next time the Colt lays waiting for his return.

The Manin the Moon teases him.   Coming back into view, there’s a smile.”What do you want from me?!  if you’re going to do me in, do it now!!!” Johns screams,slowly fading to a swallow  emotional cry.

Downstairs the doorbell erupts. The porch tells of pacing feet.  He shakes faster and faster he finally collapses stop the floor.  He crawls to the window to see the assailants.  Two small figures converge on the stairs then part.  The hands find the door knocking loudly.

“Leave me alone!  Go away!  You’re going to get me!”  John repeats this over and over hysterical in tone and tempo.

Voices catch the wind .  A serious talk and laughter carry through an open window.  The laughter is of innocence and youth, carefree.  It tears years off his life.  Ten, twelve, fifteen years….Back to the shock and awe campaign.  He fought a good fight. He didn’t live as a frightened kid.  He was a bit older, wiser. He knew how the fight was to be.  But the man pulled him back.  He was hesitant to win the fight like it should be.   The perception was more than the outcome.

Suddenly a new found energy flooded through his body.  It wasn’t the Man was after him but the country God gave the world.  The country that God deemed to rid the Devil and evil from the world. His eyes try to lock on those figures.  They have vanished.  Quickly, his eyes focus across the street.  The attack is at the neighbors instead.  The Man has taken his neighbors to pay for his hiding. John flings the window open.  The gun cocks.  In a split second both would fall.  By the time his mind catches up, his ears cringe at the words racing across the street.

“Would you like to purchase Girl Scout cookies.” The words haunt him.  It’s the easiest way in a home. Trust.
(Original written, thirty years ago.  I edited a bit and updated.)

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