No thought. Absolutely none.
Everything around you warps into bullet time. No voices, no wind on your face, nothing.Everything around you turns into a picture that you probably got in some old album in the drawer. Colours; they, for once get brighter. You see everything around you in a sort of seeming psychedelic reality. There is this buzz in your ears like you have at the end of a loud pop. Oh, almost forgot. There is this breathing sound, loud and clear. Like that bustling stream that you sometimes come across on channels like National Geograpic or something.
With a gun pointing right between his eyes, he felt exactly like this.
You go to a movie, watch it, eat popcorn and come out wishing you were like that great bod guy on the screen who beats the hell out of those nasties, or you were that swell looking girl who walks down costly carpets pretending money was being made in some free cola plant; but no! This guy upstairs, he got plans. And they dont stick to this script you thought of in your tupenny brain.
"Dont shoot me", he managed to utter after the longest two seconds of his life.
Or you have this day when the signals are all green. Or you find that fifty buck lying under the creaking bench at the park near your house. Or some guy says he is gonna take you for dinner and you know in your head that you saved a neat buck, addin' it up for your rent that you can hardly pay anymore. Hell, your company pays you after two months.
The guy with the gun felt like he was in power. Like all real and everything. Like this was the stuff he had been waiting for all his life. The final destination. Zenith. Stars and Earth.
Say. Say something!
"No last words", he said, and pulled the trigger.
"CUT!!" , the Director's voice cut through the air. " That guy is supposed to die! He is supposed to look scared! Why does he look like he does not give a shit! You think I am rich? Get these guys out of here! Pack up people! We are done for today!"
The man on his knees got up and dusted himself. He glanced at the director and walked away slowly towards the empty tent. The guy with the gun threw it on the ground, and walked away almost tearfully. No pal of his was saving him a buck tonight.
He reached the tent and lighted a cigerette."There's gotta be a better way to earn a buck than this!", he thought and kicked a stone. His phone, as if on a cue, started jangling. It was his boss. After two months.
The voice sounded cold."You have a new assignment. American guy, name is William Mason. He is up at room 15 at The Orient. Do it tonight. Money tommorow."There was a chuckle and he added, "Hope your gun's not rusted".
"Not yet", he said and hung up. He threw the cigerette and walked towards the highway, his beloved bag by his side. He was smiling now. As he looked up, the moon sniggered back, symbolising perfect natural harmony in his private universe. A final thought escaped him, as he walked back in to his life,
"I wish I could act..."