Our Life Is Not a Movie, Or Maybe

James gets up dusting off his clothes. He checks his face feeling where Evelyn just slapped. It's a shock bringing with it a cold rush of realization. He's been her whipping boy for long enough. He's as flawed as she, but not in his wildest fantasies could he think to physically show that. The thought had never dawned on him and even in this particular moment it's still a thought absent. One action is all it took, one brash moment of over-amped anger to cancel out any remaining good faith. He should be upset, he should be angry, but all there is, is just disappointment.

James: You wanna know the truth?
Evelyn: Can you bring yourself to fulfill a statement like that?

James looks at her, his eyes fixed on her; she may of just hit him, but he doesn't work like that not here, not now... never with her. He goes off and tells her, how she's suffocated his spirit; it's tossed to the side forgotten and abandoned by her own selfish and manipulative motives. Each word cutting deeper than the last.

James: Our lives have become a bad movie, and though I've felt this coming, I thought it would change for the better. It's clear now you're a joke with no punchline, there's no salvation for your character, until you can get pass your skeletons.

How it Ends

Throughout you can hear the shriek and pierce of Joan's cries ring louder and louder.

Ezra: Joan, hold on tight! (He grabs her and brings her closer into his chest, the two leave the room.)

As Ezra runs with Joan in his arms, her grasping for dear life; all that can be seen is the violent flight of bullets grazing by their bodies. Each bullet flies pass and hits the wall creating tiny holes, light begins to squeeze through these spots. Ezra reaches a solid old desk, fortified like a tank, he kicks it over and jumps with Joan dancing over the bodies of the fallen to the other side.

Ezra: Ok darlin, you'll be safe here. (He smiles at her as the desk begins to take fire. Flinching only slightly, his face begins to go from a caring smile, to a stoic look. ) Don't move for anything, ok?!?

Joan blankly stares at him, she's left in a state of shock, she can't respond. Another bullet hits the desk on the other side.

Ezra: OK!?!?

Joan looks up at him waking up a little, and she nods her head.

Ezra stands up, bullets still flying by, but they all miss him. He relaxes his shoulder back, dropping his heavy coat to the ground. He's carrying two holsters at his side, and two shotgun straps on his back; he has knives strapped to his boots running up his leg. He raises his hands to the gun holders at his side, and reaches for his sidearms. He pulls them out of the holster and holds them, aimed at his flanks. He looks down at Joan, she's clenching her bear as tight, as tight can be, Ezra smiles and lets out a roar unheard by anyone before.

2080

I can't sleep when I think about the times that I'm living in... I can't sleep when I think about the future I was born into; we walk through our daily routines with blinders on, going through the causalities and prescribed niceties, that consume our lives. And for what? I don't like you anymore than you like me... It's ok, I know the truth, as should you. Civility is not anything organized within the human spirit, it's a facade that we subscribe too, shamelessly hanging on to an antiquated notion that has no more real world basis than the easter bunny.