The Minute your dreams come to an end...

A Minute's End to Your Dreams

"How the Heck did this happen?!" I shouted to the man sitting in front of me. "You said it was going to be fine, and now this?" My legs began to quiver under me.

"What do you mean, "how did this happen?" The master replied calmly. "You failed the exam. That's all there is to it. For some reason or other, you didn't answer the questions correctly, so you failed. What is so hard to understand about that, Ramon?"

I was silent for a few moments, staring the master down from across the desk. My legs continued to shake and shiver. My arms could no longer hold on to the desk. I released my weight and flopped down on one of the soft-bound chairs. My arms then hung limply at my sides. My vision blurred. I said without thinking,

"You know what the hell is so hard to understand about that? My..." I stopped short for a second, not knowing what to say. I stared at the green plush carpet beneath my feet, unblinking "My whole existence has been about getting into this place...this... school. How could I have failed to get in?" I began to cry. Growing sobs enveloped my chest.

"Whatever the reason." Said the master solemnly across the desk. "You have failed. I am sorry. But whatever the reason is for your failure of the entrance examination, it is no fault of ours. You failed because you had not the dedication to study or the rest that you needed the night before. It is that simple. Your fault." He stopped, seeing that I was hardly paying any mind. I continued to look at the floor, crying, wishing that he would have mercy and let me in...

Now, I had nothing left. Only one option remained for me then."P-please sir. I have the talent to get into the school. Can't you make an e-exception on my part. You had to have some faith in me since you considered me for the entrance exam in the first place." That was my last, begging, fleeting attempt to get in. It seemed as though my sobs would last forever.  The headmaster sat across his fancy mahogany desk and considered my begging request for admittance. Finally he answered,

"You have no right to be coming in here wasting our time by begging for mercy. You failed the test. That is all that there is to it." He paused. My ears began to ring at those words.

"Now. I am asking you to leave. If you don't, I am going to call security and have you taken out of here."

I didn't respond. Nothing could reach me now. I had fallen into the abyss of failure and self-pity. I couldn't see in front of me. I felt dizzy. How in the name of God could this have happened? I had dreamed so hard, worked so consistently, wanted so passionately to get into this school. Now it was all over.

  I worked and worked, only to fail and be rejected by the very place that I had strived for almost my whole school career. And now, the headmaster of the school was telling me to get out. This was a fact that I couldn't handle. Once again, the master spoke,

"Are you going to leave, Ramon? Or shall I call security?" He said with a snort.

His voice...his awful voice... arose something within me. The way he said that arose a rage in me that I had never felt before in my life. Such a burning hatred welled up within me. Then, it happened. In that one moment, my world came crashing down around me. Everything that I had ever known to be true, all my dreams, passions and ideals; they no longer existed.

All that existed for me then was the man sitting across the desk. That idiot in his fancy green suit with the shiny striped tie, gray hair and tan pants. With the wise, wrinkled old look on his face, his hands folded in front of him like a thief in a suit. Who the hell did  he think he was, robbing me of my dream? Nobody.

"Alright, Ramon. I'm calling secur--" He never finished his words. He stopped short as he saw me launch out of the chair in which I sat. It seemed like a minute as I lurched one leg upon the desk, then the other. Then my whole body was atop the wooden desk, closer to the  brute. I knocked his computer off the desk. A second had passed passed since I launched from the chair. The fathead hadn't moved.

I dashed to the middle of the desk. My arms moved with inhuman precision. It was an instant to him, but to me, I had all the time in the world.... to finish it.

I reached his side of the desk. My eyes were a fiery rage. He had begun to move himself out of the way, but I was too fast.

I was off the desk again, literally flying in my rage towards him

The instant the computer hit the floor, my hands made contact with his throat. The look in his eyes turned from surprise to fear as my fingers rounded his neck and grasped. Once my fingers had confirmation that I had his throat, my muscles sent an electric signal to my hands and fingers. It seemed like the electricity said to my hands "tighten and finish it for good. He had no right to steal your dream." My hands heard and obeyed. They tightened on the man's neck, squeezing the life from him. All it took was fifty seconds for it all to go down. Or maybe it was ten minutes?

1...2...3...4...5... I watched with an otherworldly passion as he tried to pull my hands from his throat; a futile attempt. Malice made my hands powerful and unstoppable. All my strength was focused on my hands in front of me. I was standing on the same chair, making him suffer. 6...7...8...9...10... His legs and arms waved wildly, trying to knock me off.

11...12...13...14...15...His face became red with exertion as the muscles tried to resist my hands, but the oxygen supply was depleting. 16...17...18...19...20...his face was running violet. 21...22...23...24...25...The veins popped out on his forehead as he struggled to stop me. He failed miserably.

Me. My teeth were clenched in a grinding, deathly rage. On the inside, it was even worse. My soul felt like a city in chaos. There was no order, sense, or life within me then. Just like a raging firestorm of anger. The only thing left was my hands around his throat, trying to kill the person that had effectively launched that firestorm.

26...27...28...29...30... His eyes rolled back into his head and his body began to writhe violently. I was still holed up with rage, and I would never stop until this bigoter felt what it was like to have his own life crushed,

31...32...33...34...35....The chair began to tip as we struggled. The angle between the chair and the ground became less as the seconds ticked by 36...37...38...39...40...:

ninety degrees...sixtyfive degrees...forty degrees...twenty degrees...five degrees... The chair hit the ground, and both of us tumbled out, the master falling harder than me; he was losing his resistance to striking the ground.

41...42...43...44...45...In those five seconds, struggles began to cease. His kicks became less powerful, and his hands let go of mine; his neck muscles relaxed. 46...47....48.....49......50.......The man's motion ceased completely. His face lost it's deep purple color and slowly morphed to a pale white. And that was it. I knew he was dead.

I released my hands from his throat. Red finger marks were imprinted on his neck where I had held them for so long. Or so short. My whole movement out of my seat, across the desk, and execution took a minute.

No. Not execution. Murder.

For five minutes I lay on my back on the plush carpeted floor, thinking about getting my breath back. After a few minutes, I turned my head to look at the dead man. He was sprawled out, his chest facing me while his feet pointed up towards the ceiling. His eyes had opened, and his pupils had returned from above. I looked at them.

For a moment, I thought he was still alive! His eyes stared back at me, empty. Then it hit me. This man was dead. And who killed him? Me. There is no feeling like that. At that point, there were two options I could decide upon. I could lay there and continue to revel in the fact that I had taken a life. Or I could run.

I stood up, facing the dead man. My legs shook beneath me, my whole body felt weak. I felt nothing anymore. I looked around the room, at the broken computer on the floor, the chair where I had began, the dead man's body. What would happen if I...no. Should I...no. Maybe...no. 

That was when I made the decision. I would never forget it, either.

My legs stopped shaking, my body stopped quivering. I quieted.

Then ran.

Author's Note

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Reviews

[Tori]

Wow that was amazing. Once again your use of detail and the word your sentences absolutely leave me speechless! The idea was wonderful and it reflects the simple things man will kill for. But nevertheless, it was an incredible story, and I can't wait to read more of your work. It had me completely engrossed with the very first sentence. Excellent job!

[::Yv0nne::]

Wow. When I started reading this..right away, it made mem think of Heaven. The master is God and we are the student wondering why we didn't make it into Heaven. No matter how hard we "worked" or how "good" we were it doesnt mean that there is a place in Heaven for us...no matter how badly we want to be there. Then I changed my mind towards the middle. It shows how badly we want things sometimes and when we don't get them..we just want to go into a fit of rage. This shows if we were ever to act upon our thoughts..what would happen. As always I love your used of description..it makes us feel like we are right there...and I love how you slowed down time. It only takes a minute to take a life...and it only takes a minute for your whole life to change...