284 Going Ballistic

He felt downright giddy. His parents had never left him alone in the house before. He was eight, and they had hesitated. They were only going to be gone a few minutes, however.

What could happen?

Famous last words. The world's tragedies float on an oil sheen of what could happen, atop the fast-flowing currents of things unforeseen. And it only takes a spark to set the whole tsunami on fire!

Of course, he went right for the safe in the closet, for he knew that is where his Dad kept the loaded gun.

Guns.

The fascination with such a simple hunk of metal which intersects the human world on that very flaming river of tragedy.

He remembered how after school his friend, Billy Wright, had pointed their family gun at him and laughed. He didn't laugh though, because this new epiphany, of existential dread of mortality, blind-sided him.

Yes, it could really happen. He could be dead. And Billy would be forever changed. Stupid Billy. Stupid Billy's Dad. Billy stowed the gun dutifully in its proper place at the Wright home and they hit the neighborhood playground.

The combination wasn't very imaginative: the three ages of Dad, his Mom, and himself. 34 and 26 and 7.

The heavy solid door swung with the anticipated squeak that had stopped him from exploring it when parents were about. There was Grandpa's gold watch and Grandma's engagement set. And on its own shelf, as if the nature of its own fatalistic universe was segregated from all the rest of the common goings-on of things, the gun sat in adult ballistic potential.

The gun had one purpose: to blow through stuff, be it inanimate or living tissue. Even thinking tissue.

He raised the gun to his head, just pretending, wanting to feel the thrill. He pulled back the hammer. Would he go to Hell? That's was worth the considration. Would everyone grieve as testimony of their love for him--Yes! They would. And that made him feel really good for a moment.

Then he lowered the gun and uncocked it, placing it back on its shelf.

No! That's just crazy! he thought. He had gotten it out of his system.

_____________

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

For Thursday, October 10, (MENTAL HEALTH AWARENESS DAY) Day 284 of the 2024 Story-a-Day Challenge

366 WORDS (without A/N)

ABOUT THE STORY

This was a horror story. And apropos for today, Mental Health Awareness Day!

When I was a kid, Billy Wright really had pointed his Dad's gun at me to scare me. It did. I wonder, for how many accidental, stupid, preventable shootings are there the episodes that didn't turn out so uneventful?

And yes, I checked out my Dad's loaded gun in the safe, whose combination was just as easy. No, I didn't put it to my immature head, because I maturely thought, No! That's just crazy! before I had gotten to that point.

But I did have a wave of fascination of the existential dread of mortality. And the world moving on after I was gone. It was interesting. Again, just for a moment. I let it pass, for all the right reasons.

A child's brain is an unripe beast. But some things--never-before thought-of things, can still dawn on such a puerile mind and come to the right conclusions anyway, even if for the first time.

I remember a particularly chilling Alfred Hitchcock episode where a child found a gun and went around pointing it at people. Everyone assumed it was a toy gun and played along, little realizing how close they were coming to death. It is the juxtaposion of childhood innocence with adult permanence which made that episode so terrifying--the stuff of true horror. The most interesting thing was using suspense as anti-gun in an industry relying on guns and people blown away.

____________

82 DAYS TO GO! THIS CHALLENGE FIRES ON, 366 WORDS A DAY.

There are currently three Vocal writers remaining in this bullet-proof 2024 Story-a-Day Challenge:

• L.C. Schäfer (Bullet #1)

• Rachel Deeming (Bullet #2)

• Gerard DiLeo (Blank)