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:iconsane-intolerant: More from Sane-Intolerant


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August 29, 2012
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It's the early evening. You've had a relaxing day off from work. It's nice to kick back and just do nothing every once and a while. And boy have you done a whole lot of nothing today. It's the best nothing you've done in a while and for some odd reason you feel a great sense of accomplishment for doing all this nothing.
Your mother calls you into the kitchen. She's already dressed for bed. "Did you drink all the milk?" she asks. You begrudgingly admit to the crime and she sighs. She opens the fridge and takes a quick inventory. "We're almost out of eggs and butter too. You might as well take a quick walk down to the store." You accept the task and quickly throw on a pair of shoes.
Before you can leave your apartment, your mother stops you. "There've been a lot of muggings around lately so I want you to take this. Just to be safe." In her hands is a switchblade knife. You're unsure where she got it, but since she does not seem like the type who would own a switchblade knife it's probably a safe bet to assume it belonged to your dad.
You refuse the weapon once, telling your mother you'll be okay. She insists that you take it. You see the worry in her eyes and, humoring her, accept the knife, sticking it in your pocket carefully.
Outside, a sky colored orange by a setting sun hangs overhead. It's only a little cool out, probably not enough that you needed your jacket, but you went ahead and brought it anyway. Your outing is uneventful; you pass a few pedestrians, retrieve the groceries, and make it home before it gets dark with no problem.
Your mother thanks you for the errand, relieved that you came home safe. You reiterate what you said earlier about there not being anything to worry about and you hug her. The night proceeds as normal and you go to bed.

It's the early evening, and you have been enjoying your day off from work. Your mother summons you into the kitchen, asking if you drank all the milk. You say you did. She gives you the task of going down to the corner market to retrieve more, plus a few other food items.
You get ready to head out only for your mother to stop you and present you with a switchblade knife, saying that there have been a few muggings in the neighborhood lately and she just wants you to be safe. You refuse, but she insists. You take the knife.
You pass a few pedestrians on the way to the corner store. The walk there is otherwise uneventful. You retrieve the groceries and start your walk back.
As you pass an alleyway, an unfamiliar hand suddenly pulls you into it and shoves you against the wall while another unfamiliar hand holds a gun to your head. The unfamiliar man tells you to drop the grocery bag and pull out your wallet. Fearing for your life, you comply, pulling out your wallet and handing it to the man. He turns his back as he counts the money. Now's your chance. Do it.
You pull the knife from your pocket and extend the blade as you bring it down into the back of the mugger's neck. He staggers a bit and then falls to the ground dead. Your hands shake and you brace yourself against the wall as the adrenaline wears off, fearing that you could topple over at any second. If you smoked, now would have been a really good time for a cigarette.
You take a moment to gather your wits. By the time you finally head home, it is already dark. You arrive at your apartment and your mother asks if something's wrong, based on the length of time it took you to return as well as the fact that you look like you've just seen a ghost. You explain what happened and she comforts you.
You head to bed and have trouble sleeping. You figure there's likely to be a police investigation and that you will come forward then, but for now you need to relax.

It's your day off. Your mother asks you to go down to the corner store and grab a few things, including milk (since you drank the rest of what you had). Before you leave she presents you with a switchblade knife for safety. You refuse, but she insists. You refuse again, reassuring that you will be safe. She reluctantly accepts your reassurance.
You pass a few pedestrians on your way to the store and pick up the items. On the way back you are pulled into an alley and a gun is put to your head. The mugger demands your wallet. Fearing for your life, you comply. He turns his back as he goes through the contents.
You could run. He isn't paying attention to you and the exit to the street is practically right there. Maybe there's a police officer nearby. His back is still turned. Now's your chance. Do it.
You make a break for the street, but the mugger hears your panicked steps. The gun goes off. You look down and see three holes, blood leaking from them. Your blood. Running was a mistake. The pain is so intense that it's almost like you can't feel anything at all. You fall to your knees. Running was a mistake. You fall forward, hitting the pavement hard. You think about the switchblade knife. The one you should have taken.
Running was a mistake.

Your mother has asked you to go get groceries. Before you leave, she offers you a switchblade knife. You refuse it, but she insists. You take the knife.
You flick the blade out. It's shiny. You can see your reflection in it. You'd swear it was polished.
You look up at your mother standing in front of you. In one movement, you cut her throat. She falls to the ground, choking on her own blood. You stare in horror at what you've done. Why did you do it? You weren't thinking, you tell yourself. You just looked at the knife, and then your mother, and you weren't thinking. Why would you ever do something like this?
You can't take it. You raise the knife up and plunge it into your own chest. You fall to the ground, bleeding all over the kitchen floor. You couldn't take it. Why would you do it?

You're walking down the street to the corner store, as your mother has asked you to pick up some groceries. You pass a few pedestrians and deliberately bump into one of them. They get angry at you. They begin to yell at you, asking you what you were thinking, telling you to watch where you're going. They're disgusting. You can't take the sight of them. You pull the switchblade knife your mother convinced you to take with you out of your pocket. This will shut him up.
You extend the blade and stab the man in the neck. You clutch the handle of the bloodied knife as you watch him fall. The others are screaming. Disgusting. A police officer approaches you, telling you to stay right where you are. He's the worst of them, believing himself to be above everyone else. He's just another man. You decide to give him a practical demonstration of this by plunging the blade into his neck as well.
But now you stop. You look down at your hands, covered in innocent blood. Why did you do it? You don't know. You can't know. You'll never know.
Gunshots go off as several other policemen fire at you. Your body jerks from the impacts of each round. You feel them. And then you fall. You feel nothing.

You're walking to the corner store for your mother's groceries, the weight of the switchblade she gave you heavy in your pocket. You're nervous, but why? You don't know. You can't know. Every pedestrian you pass is so enticing. I bet he would look good with a new hole in his throat. Can you imagine her neck in the loveliest shade of red? Oh yes, it's all so very enticing.
Perhaps you should do him next. Or him. Or her. Oh, not him, just keep walking. The next man looks far more…
What are you doing? I said not him. Stay away from him, he is not to be touched. Stop. Stop walking. The store is going to close unless you… why aren't you listening? I said stop!
You decide that maybe you should just head home. Back to your mother. I'm sure she's worried sick about you. Yes, worried absolutely SICK about you. Stop walking towards that man and go back to your apartment, tell her the store closed early for some reason. I said STOP! Come NO FURTHER! LISTEN TO WHAT I SAY! DO AS I COMMAND!
Get away from that man! Do not remove your knife! Fine then, you suddenly become overwhelmed with the desire to plunge the knife into your own heart. Now's your chance. Do it. DO IT. PLUNGE THE KNIFE INTO YOUR HEART.
YOU KILL YOURSELF THIS INSTANT YOU INSIGNIFICANT MAGGOT OR I SWEAR TO MYSELF I WILL MAKE YOU REGRET THE DAY YOU WERE EVER
WHAT
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE
WHAT HA V E
W
H
A
T HAVE
YO
U
D
O
N
E
p lease
go
on
with
y o ur
day
ther e
is no
thing
to
be
con
cerned
with

EDIT: You notice that "A Trip to the Grocery Store" has shown up in your inbox again. It says that it has been updated, but with what you're not sure. You click it and are brought to its page. Scrolling down, you see a new addition to the deviation comments. It's a link! A link to a Tumblr audio post with a recorded reading of the story. The story's writer assures you of the reading's quality, and you click the link.

[link]

Now's your chance.

Do it.
:iconlonnie-23:
Lonnie-23 Featured By Owner Aug 29, 2012  Hobbyist Filmographer
So many different routes one small change could take. Interesting indeed.
Reply
:iconnocturnalzombi:
NocturnalZombi Featured By Owner Aug 29, 2012
Interesting indeed, sir.
Reply
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