Short Story: Written Dec 27th, 2006

This is a short story I wrote one night. It's up on my facebook and I like it hence here it is.


I won't get the chance to defend my case

Can't be sure how long its been like this,I've been waiting for Karma to rear it's head, its monstrous ugly fucking head.

I've been holed up here for so long, only cuz one more slip and I'm a dead man. Too many arrogant moves, too many close calls. I've been asking for it.

A pull of bourbon burns down my throat and into my mind to distract me, with the glow of my monitor to keep me company. The stolen wi-fi provides me my only window out of this hole.

I can hear in my subconscious, the smug terminal words "You fucked up" leaking from the lips of my own personification of the overwatch. I know the rumor and stories. There will be one single knock at my door. No noise and no struggle, no faces to blame.

I won't get the chance to defend my case.

I take another pull on the bottle of bourbon...yeah I guess I did fuck up. But I got so damn tired of keeping quiet and letting overwatch take away everything.

My wits are keen, I've got a belly full of shit cheap liquor and a fully loaded friend holstered to my side.

I hear the train run past outside of my building. Raindrops assault my windowless walls. I feel tense.

KNOCK...