Nightmares

He loved being here. He'd love to stay here. To breathe in the air of chaos and bloodshed in huge puffs and never let them out, if he could.

The sound of gunshots and screams sounded in a disorganized cacophony. It would be very disturbing to the average person but he loved it, he took delight in it, he could revel in it all day long, once again however, he was subjected to the clause of 'if he could'.

Another gunshot sounded. This time, the bullet brushed past him and he snapped out of his reverie and realized the urgency of the situation he was in.

But he couldn't be here, he just fell asleep in the… but then this couldn't be a dream could it? No! Definitely not, it felt too real to be dream. But if it wasn't a dream and if it wasn't real then…

He shook his head, rescuing himself from falling deep into his train of thoughts and pointed his gun towards a person that took aim at him. He pulled the trigger of the gun and the loud sound that it made, the familiarity he seemed to have with the brief recoil that he felt on his hand made him grin.

His grin turned into a laugh which then turned into a cackle when he realized that the person he had shot dropped dead on the floor. He'd killed someone, he could see the person's blood, he could almost taste it.

Right now, he could almost feel the blood splashing on his body. He SAW the blood and wanted nothing more than to roll in it and enjoy the pleasurable feeling that came along with it.

Bang! Death.

Once again, he took aim and shot the gun. Once again, an unsuspecting person dropped to the floor, dead. And once again, he began to cackle like a mad man.

What he did not seem to realize was that he was in a gun fight, and there were certain things that one didn't do in a gun fight. Cackle like a mad man just happened to be one of them.

And so, before he realized what was happening, eleven red dots simultaneously pointed to his chest. He seemed dazed for a second but then he realized that he didn't care. He wouldn't let something so trifle stop him from enjoying himself.

Bang! Death

Bang! Death

Bang! Death

Bang! Death

Bang! Death

Click! Click! Click!

He continued to shoot wildly, dropping five figures at an astonishing rate. He would've continued shooting had he not run out of bullets.

Since he had run out of bullets, he couldn't carry on shooting like a madman which meant that he couldn't carry on killing people. The realization of this made him sober up a bit which in turn made him to acknowledge how dire the situation he was in was.

"Shit" he muttered.

Almost immediately, eleven bullets pierced his chest and his heart. He dropped to his knees, clutching his chest. Blood flowed from his mouth almost like water from a river and then he smiled, a toothy grin highlighting his bloodstained teeth.

His eyes seemed to be dimming. They should've been closed by now, he should've been dead by now. For some reason he wasn't dead, or maybe he was. Then again he definitely wasn't and since he wasn't dead, he mustered all the strength he could and pointed his pistol at another person and pulled the trigger.

Click!

No bullets came out of the gun, then his eyes closed and then…

Alex sat up with a jolt. His nightwear was drenched with sweat. His heart beating at a pace so fast, he wasn't entirely sure it was possible.

He slowly disengaged from his bed and felt around for the door to the toilet in the blue rimmed darkness. The bulb wasn't working. He'd have to call the electrician in the morning.

When he eventually found the door, he opened it and stepped into the toilet. Oddly enough, the tap was already turned on. He smiled, it was as if it already knew his daily routine.

Then again, it was more likely that he had carelessly left it open when he went to sleep the previous night.

He used his hand to collect a sufficient amount of water and tossed it on his face. He repeated the action several times and stared into the mirror.

Staring back at him was a pale faced man that looked to be in his early thirties. His black hair fell forward across his forehead but fell short of his eyes. His pitch black eyes seemed to be devoid of any emotions. This contradicted with the rate at which his heart was beating.

His lower facial area had been taken over by a thick collection of hair forming an unkept beard. If anything, the beard seemed to enhance his handsomeness.

Alex sighed as he scooped another handful of water and tossed it on his face. He sighed yet again.

There was nothing to be afraid of, it was a dream. It was just a dream. He didn't shoot anyone, he definitely didn't kill anyone and he most certainly didn't die else he wouldn't be able to stand opposite the mirror and observe his features.

He went back into his room and felt around for his wardrobe. Once he got to his destination, he felt around for a bit and took out what looked like a white colored robe. He took off his drenched nightwear and tossed them into a corner of the room.

He slid into the robe and left his room into a dimly lit passage which led to a room that had been arranged in a church setting.

From the entrance one would see several chairs arranged in a four-by-four formation. There were four sections of it. In front of the arrangement of chairs was a slight elevation that seemed to serve as an altar.

On this 'step' was a pulpit that had a bible opened across it. In the middle of the page which the Bible was opened to was a rosary.

Alex climbed the altar and walked towards the pulpit. He picked the rosary up and clutched it in his hand while closing his eyes.

He did this for some seconds after which he walked towards one of the chairs. He sat on it and began reading the Bible that now lay open on his lap.