Our Friend Mr. Brewding: Masked
THE NEWS, SOMEWHERE:
“…victim found dead in his apartment. Blood analysis suggests he was highly intoxicated, but alcohol poisoning does not appear to be the cause of death. Police are suspecting murder, but there are no leads at this time. Mr. Whit was a repeat…”
I turned over in my bed, calmly. I was wide awake now. The “nightmare” only started out in fragmented parts, not always frequent, sometimes only occurring once a month. This week, however, I’d been having it every night, and it was no longer in pieces. Now the dream was much more coherent, and I began to understand it. I was no longer afraid. I saw it for what it was. Destiny.
Dying is a funny thing. It’s an even funnier thing when you were supposed to have died, but due to some weird cosmic event, things don’t turn out quite…right, and you’re still alive. At least I was now convinced this was definitely something cosmic. A divine intervention or something. Call it what you want. Fact is, I should’ve died that night. I would’ve died if I were in the car. I was supposed to be in the car. I wasn’t. She told me to stay home.
I was saved. She wasn’t.
I was told that it was just a freak accident. That these things just…happen. The only solace even a priest could offer was just God has a plan for everyone. I’m not exactly the religious type, but assuming that’s true, why did he plan for me to stay instead of going with her? My life couldn’t possibly be that important. I know it isn’t. It certainly isn’t part of some grand plan either, and if it is, I think God just messed up this time around. This time, things must’ve not gone according to plan. I should’ve been there. I should be dead.
But I’m not. I spent a few years waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for death to catch up with me. It never came. I didn’t exactly go looking for it either. I’m not insane. I’ve always been particularly cautious, and dangerous things, well, frighten me, so I didn’t try and die, or find death, or whatever. I just expected it to find me.
…A gnarled mask of plastic peace
tells its own story
two feet further from the scene;
it isn’t Halloween….
I saw my own decapitated head in my dream last night. Death’s finally coming.
SOMEWHERE, AFTER A MURDER:
I must’ve just missed him. I’ve been tailing this guy for weeks. Always just one step behind. I make it to each scene just in time to watch the police clean his mess up, while I perch on a building out of sight. Way out of sight. I didn’t want them to know I was working this case also. I had some friends in the department, true. But the commissioner can’t get me out of every gray area of the law. Vigilantism is very…gray, but some pretend like they don’t know what I’m doing. That’s okay. I never much liked that color anyways. I’ve always preferred black.
I already heard the rumors that begin spreading when crime happens here. Being a knight of darkness doesn’t have a whole lot of perks, and when bad things happen, the people who don’t approve of what you’re doing try and blame you. Make you the scapegoat. I’ve done many things in accordance with my own morals that others have deemed immoral or unethical. I’ve never killed anyone though.
“…offender with multiple DUI’s. With crime rates at an all-time high, and many prisons and jail cells full, Mr. Whit had been let off with warnings and fines, instead of serving time in an over-crowded penitentiary. Mr. Whit died with no family to survive him and will be buried this Friday.”