The Broken Rifle
Copyright© 2024 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 19
I heard a faint chuckle.
And THAT created a situation I never wanted to happen.
You know ... you’ve just seen ... or thought you saw ... something fuzzy on the very edge of your peripheral vision. You turn to look but it was gone and you can’t put your finger on what it was. Generally, you push it off ... out of your memory. Our ability to forget is necessary. If you can’t forget you run out of storage.
It keeps happening. There is never anything there. Increaasing regularity. Days ... hours ... minutes.
And now you’re paranoid. SOMETHING IS WATCHING! AND they’re watching ... ME.
And the day comes when whoever is watching makes a piddling error ... like a chuckle. Sometimes it’s a glimpse ... just a flash on this side of vision ... not on the edge.
And the voice in your head says, ‘Shit ... caught.’ And the OTHER voices say ‘Idiot’... ‘I didn’t mean to. It was funny.’ There is this conversation going on in your head ... and you are fed up with their shit!
“It’s one thing to know you are there ... Do you have to talk about me behind my back ... no ... wait ... that’s not what I mean ... a little help here.”
THEY ... and this time ... we don’t know who THEY are ... make a snap ... or executive ... decision.
The fuzzies are real.
Not only are they real ... there are Seven of them.
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