Can You Feel Me Watching? Flash Fiction
Do you know me?
I have strange dreams. Yeah, I know what you're thinking, everyone thinks their dreams are strange. There’s nothing unusual about having non-reality dreams. Oh, what? You wouldn’t have called it non-reality? Do you think you’re better than me? Do you?
I guess I shouldn’t start this off so combative, you’re here looking for something to take up a few minutes of your precious internet time only to find a stranger trying to start a fight, but am I a stranger? Are you sure you don’t know me? I could be that neighbor down the hall, or around the block. The one you see and sees you, but you and he never talk. There’s this unspoken language between strangers that don’t want to talk, a leave me alone vibe that screams out loud without making a sound. Two strangers at a bus stop trying to keep away from each other without looking the part. They say people crave human connections, but what if your dreams say something different. What if, in your dreams, you kill the world? What if you smile as you do the deed?
It’s harder to kill the world then you might think. No one button will start a chain of events that ends with a planet of dead things. Even a nuclear apocalypse wouldn’t kill all life. The lowest forms of life like the cockroach or the lawyers would survive. Yes, I know a lawyer joke, the low hanging fruit of the comedy world. Even lawyers don’t like lawyers. In my dreams, I take a hands-on approach killing every living thing I see. On my more ambitious days, I use a flamethrower killing even the microbes. I pass people on the street thinking about how they should be dead. So, tell me, have I ever past you on the street? Did you ever see a person out in public looking around and wonder who that person was, what were they all about? Did you ever wonder if that person had dreams so horrible, they would keep you awake for weeks?
In my dreams I’m a god, but not one of creation. I’m the agent of death ending all things, ending all the ugly, all the beautiful, all that matters and everything that doesn’t. When I’m done all that is left is scorched earth, clean and quiet. Tell me, in your mediocrity did you know you passed a god on the street, shared an elevator or just saw one waiting on a bus? Do you feel my eyes on you as you go about your mundane existence? In my dreams, you are just one of many, fuel for the pyre. I burn all that can burn, drain the oceans into space and when I’m done, I and I alone stand in the silence of a dead world knowing what it’s like to be truly alive. A mundane existence made extraordinary by eliminating all the competition.
There’s a good chance you saw me sometime in the last few days. I’m the guy who delivered your packages, held a door open for you, stared out from the gas station as you pumped your gas. I’m the guy watching you as you sit at your computer reading a story about a man dreaming of killing the world. Do you see that little circle on your laptop screen or cellphone? That’s my eye peering into your soul. As you sit here reading this, do you feel me watching you? Do you? Does my glare frighten you? Can you feel my hatred, my lack of remorse, my utter contempt for life? I sit in my desire thinking of things I dare not. Thinking of the end of all life and dreaming of being at its epicenter as its creator, the one who begins the end, the god that destroys. The unclean soul that washes away all until all that is left is quiet.
Or just maybe I should stop my marathon of Criminal Minds?
Have you ever wondered if someone is watching you as you sit at your computer?
Do you think someone is watching you online or IRL?
© 2019 Michael Collins aka Lakemoron