If You Have To Pray

Why in the hell Carl's dad had an elephant gun was anyones guess, but that wasn't really important. What was important was how cool it was and the sound it made when fired. The cry from the blast carried for what felt like forever, but was really just five minutes. Jack, Carl's brother, always had to be first to shoot. Said it was his right as eldest to make sure it was safe, which it always was, and to enjoy, which he never did. Immediately after firing, he always grabbed his shoulder and winced. Carl could never help but heckle him about it. "You alright there, Nancy Boy?" he would ask before taking the gun from him. "Just shut up and shoot, dipstick."

Carl was a bit more knowledgeable of the weapon, having figured out how to maximize force and minimize the pain from the kickback. The wisdom always became apparent the moment Carl placed a finger on the gun. His hands glided all over it, as if getting reacquainted with an old lover, and his eyes would fill with a new light. When Carl pulled the trigger, the bullet would fly out like a hell hound, savagely searching for somewhere, anywhere, that it could bury itself. The sound from the fire was no longer a sound either, but more of a thunderous vociferation; as if Satan's stomach was rumbling. Though the experience lasted seconds at best, it was in those mere shreds of time that Carl felt most alive. He became aware of every cell in his body, every tissue, organ, and muscle; all coming together in an orchestration of sheer delight. His bones shook and his teeth snapped at the air in an effort to contain himself from losing control. He liked to linger after the shot; reveling in the act and milking the moment for everything he could. Sometimes he would enter a trance like state until Sasha, the girl from the next farm over, shook him out of it.

Sasha stood about 5' 6" in her 17 year old frame. Her auburn hair was always in a ponytail and the bangs she had constantly cast a shadow over her hazel eyes. Carl, 18 years young, had dark brown hair- if one could call it that- and was just under six feet tall. His eyes were the average brown and save for his unnatural speed, there was not much else of any interest about him. Jack, however, was much more of a story. His stature, according to the state drivers license that resided in his wallet, left, back pocket, was 6' 4", but to stand next to him, one could swear he was at least 7' tall. In fact, it was because of Jack's imposing figure that Carl had developed such speed. He was always running from Jack. Of course, that was his own fault; no one likes having their room invaded and torn apart.

Jack's strawberry blonde hair fluttered carelessly in the wind as Carl was shaken awake by Sasha. " Damn it, every time. Why can't you just let me enjoy myself?" Sasha had to take a step back. Carl was a placid person, such a response was completely out of his nature. Though caught off guard, Sasha was quick on her feet. Breathing in, she returned the favor, " Because if I don't you'll just sit there all day and night, grinning like an idiot. Now give me the gun." Sasha wasn't one to look for trouble, but if it found her, she wouldn't shy away from it either.

Carl, reluctantly, handed the gun to Sasha. Annoyed, he stormed off toward the house, mumbling something about horses and rope under his breath. Sasha and Jack were left standing alone in the open field, both of them still trying to grasp what exactly had just happened. "Do you know what's wrong with him?" asked Sasha. Jack could scarcely find words, but eventually managed to reply, "No idea. This is the first time I've seen him like this. Although, he has had this odd feeling about him. I'm not sure how to describe it, but lately, when I look him in the eye, he seems a bit more. I don't know. Dark."
Sasha, now remembering she still had the gun in her hands, broke the uncomfortable air. "Well, whatever, I'm sure he'll get over it. Help me load this thing so I can shoot it. I've gotta get home soon to help with dinner."

As Carl stepped onto the porch, he heard the shot ring off in the distance. He paused and looked back in the direction he had left his brother and neighbor. "Idiots," he thought, " the both of them." Though the gun was no longer in his hands, the feeling that he had procured from releasing its hellish host still coated his skin. A vision flashed before his eyes, sights of crimson and a bright flash that blinded him. Muffled sounds of something akin to screams that made him fall to his knees. Overcome, he remained there for some time. Not being sure of what had just happened, Carl slowly rose to his feet. There was a wall that ran adjacent to the door which he used as support. Like a turtle hobbles to water, so too did Carl laboriously make his way into the house. His initial plan was to grab an apple and rejoin the two idiots outside, but his present state would not allow it. Never before had he been so weakened by a mere thought. He climbed up to his room and took a seat on his bed. Across from him was the window he had sneaked out many times. He never went anywhere or did anything, save for walk the grounds. It was nice to have such a vast space all to himself with no one around to interrupt his thoughts. Just him, a nice apple and the stars that shined high above him. Every morning he woke up and asked himself what he was living for, and every night he remembered why. At the end of the day, night was all he had.

There are certain things about the concept of time that baffle everyone. How does it happen, why does it happen and, one of the most sought after answers, can it be stopped? That said, Carl had no interest in any of these. His main goal in life was to see how far he could go unnoticed. If he could somehow manage to die a quiet death on some farm with no one around, save for his family, then that would be enough for him. There were no ambitious claims in his head and no proud blood in his veins. His eyes lacked the gleam of drive and the only reason he wasn't dead was because he was too cowardly to take his own life. Not to mention lazy. All of these were facts regarding Carl. Things you could always count on, until about five minutes ago. Something had knocked a bolt loose in Carl. An ill desire that sprouted out of nothing. The seed slowly filling him with a sense of insatiable rampage. The clouds had been gathering for some time and now, they opened; spilling forth every ounce of hatred Carl had never known.

As he delved into a deep sleep, doors were found and opened. Great portals of oak and concrete. Small openings into hollow trees,and unoriginal seven foot planks of wood. With every turn and every entrance, the secrets of the mind were laid at his feet. Things he had forgotten, things he had hoped to forget and things that he scarcely remembered. All of these came together in unison, playing for him the melodic undertones that had comprised his life. The somber chords tossed and turned him, the rise and fall of sound twisted and warped his psyche. With the passing of every measure, Carl was torn piece by piece. He was barreled forward through the score until finally the fermata revealed itself to him. The sustained note, meant as the coup de grace, devastated his final column. With everything ripped from him, his temple crumbled. Left in ruins, everything faded in black.

The next morning, Carl awoke without a sound, nor did he make any as he got ready. Normally he would be a song bird chirping away joyfully as he fastened his shoes, but not this morning. This morning was coated with a gray hue. The sun shone through his window, but as far as he was concerned, no star had risen. His mother called him down for breakfast, which he ate in silence. " You're awful quiet. You alright?" she asked, sipping her coffee as she gazed at him, instinct alerting her to something that wasn't right. He simply nodded his head and finished off his toast. Getting up with his dishes in hand, Carl deposited them at the sink before heading towards the door. On his way there, he grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, a sign his mother recognized. " Big plans?" she inquired. Carl paused his step, took a bite of his crisp, green apple, and said, "Indeed."

Stepping onto the porch, Carl took in the morning breeze. A deep breath reinforced his resolution, and the juicy apple in his hand kept him going. He heard laughter in the distance. It was Sasha. Sunday mornings had their schedule. Since everyone had to be at church for the better part of the day and a big meal between all the families in the area followed, Sasha, Jack and Carl had decided they would get up a bit earlier these days and shoot the elephant gun. From the sounds of it, Carl had overslept a bit. Not that it mattered.

When he reached the opening, he slowed his pace. With every step, Carl looked onto the scenery. Trees surrounded them and the grass was almost knee length high. A few clouds in the sky floated on languidly, heading to some other far off part of the world where they could observe the pitiful existence man had created for itself, laughing acrimoniously as they did so, because they were clouds and it was their right. When his eyes fell upon Sasha and Jack, his thoughts roared back to his dreams, and everything was made alright. It's an odd sense of calm that befalls one whose had his constitution obliterated. Rage and anger are no longer in such a persons vocabulary because they don't exist. They are the very air that person breaths and the lantern that lights his path. He can conceal everything about him and make every lie that dances from his tongue a truth. No more does he hunger for food, but rather prefers his teeth drip with chaos.

Ignorant of the shadow in Carl's eyes, Sasha and Jack welcomed him. Jack heckled him in his natural, loving way and Sasha bid him good morning, smiling meekly as she did so.

" I thought you had chickened out," Jack said jokingly as he handed him the gun, " but I guess I was wrong."

" You have no idea." replied Carl.

Carl stood with the gun in his hand for a moment, looking at it tenderly. "It's time." he whispered. "Did you say something?" asked Sasha. Shooting the gun so many times had made Carl grow accustomed to the weight, and taking on the kickback so much allowed him piece of mind. Effortlessly, Carl turned to both of them and took aim, all of this being done, seemingly, in a single motion. Jack was the first to speak.

"Carl, what the hell are you doing?"

"I guess it'll be you first then."

Seconds passed between his sentence and the pulling of the trigger, but when you're as close as you're going to get to playing god, every second is a lifetime. As the final hundred years ended, so did Jack's life. The shot clung to his chest and ravaged his sternum. The brutality of the weapon and the close range ensured that Jack die at least three times before hitting the ground. Sasha, who was in utter shock, looked at Jacks body, which was already growing cold, save for his chest, which had become a smoldering niche for destruction. Carl, gun still in firing position, now turned his attention to Sasha. Fear had engulfed the poor girl and tears streamed from her eyes as if to drown out the surreal reality that had been painted before her with the most macabre of colors. Her voice found its way to the front of her lips, but everything she wanted to say was reduced to one word that reflects the entire spectrum of human emotion when one is thrust into such a cold and dark abyss.

"Why?"

"Why not?"

That was to be the only eulogy Sasha would receive. Carl fired his second shot; the tempest, unforgiving and vile as anything that ever was, howled and tore through the air. Burying itself deep within, it found its way to the very core of the girl. Her essence and its destruction became one and as her last breath was drawn, it escorted her into a dark hall that showed nothing of mercy, but everything of truth.

Carl looked on at the two people he had spent a great majority of his life with. One pestered and hounded him constantly, all the while shedding tiny leafs of wisdom before him, in hopes that he would not be the same person. The other lay in the field, auburn hair splayed out elegantly; there was no moment she was not humbly graceful. He loved them both dearly and held no ill will towards them. What had happened was of the utmost surprise to him. He could not have explained it if he had all the lifetimes in history to do so.

The final movement was now. A crescendo of despondent emotions whispered the lyrics to a song he would never write. This would be as high as the monolith of his life would rise. In his pocket was the apple he had begun earlier. He sat down and took a bite from it. Positioning the gun, he replaced the apple with the barrel. He closed his eyes and pictured the stars on his nightly walks. Those bright eyes in the dark canvas that had comforted him for so long. It was time he meet them