by Clint Daniel

Created on: February 15, 2011

A television quietly buzzed a static hum in the far corner of the room, with Aaron laid upon the couch back in the glowing salt and pepper fuzz that coated the flat television screen. His eyes were open, but he wasn't there. They stared at the static with an unyielding craze. Instead of the fuzz upon the screen, flashes of brutal violence and death covered the monitor. It was his gift and curse.

All the images he saw were actual happenings of the world, showing the primal nature of humanity to this young man. He couldn't sleep because his dreams were only violent episodes of tattered unconsciousness, which still reflected the television's ghastly images. Each time he tried, he only woke bathed in sweat, panting from some unknown exertion. This would be one of those nights, for he was growing too tired to stay awake.

Eyelids heavy, he continued to lay on his sofa with the bedroom ajar only feet from him, but he couldn't make it to the soft mattress inside. The wearing cushions of the couch was where he would lay, with its loose springs, thin padding, and tearing linen cover. Drool escaped the side of his mouth as his delirium set in motion his meager sleeping regimen. He closed his eyes. In moments they shot open once more, blood-shot and bulging with a scream of terror accompanying it. Already the sweat began to bead his brow.

Gun shots echoed from the television, screaming shrilled forth, and explosions rang out as if he were only feet from the blast zone. Each loud noise also woke Aaron from what disillusioned rest he got, making it all the tougher. Finally, when he began to drift off once more, an explosion of tremendous force rocked his home, jarring him awake once more. Tears began to pool in his eyes out of desperation, and he cried out to the pitiless screen.

"Why?" Tears now flowed freely. "Why is it me who has to see this? What have I done?" He curled into a fetal pose, whispering to himself in a quiet drone. "When will it end? When will it end? When will it end?" On and on he repeated these words while explosions rang forth, gunfire burst, and screams echoed in the barren walls. He could only sit and watch the hazy screen through tear-filled eyes while humanity whittled away at itself. "How could anyone do this to another person?"

"Can I end it myself?" He whispered to himself, hoping some unseen person would answer his plea. "Will my pain be done if I end my life?" He repeated to himself. In a second be began to feel a brief glimpse of hope, thinking he finally found his solution, but some gnawing uncertainty ate at his insides. "It can't be that easy." He replied dejectedly to himself, resting his face on the gathered knees before him. "It can't...It has to be them." If only he could change the world.

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