Taken - Crime Time Weekly Challenge 1

With the flick of a switch he sat in cold stillness. The pitch black night surrounded him and forced him to wrap himself in his fear. It was all that kept his body warm enough to stay alert.

He felt the goose bumps on his arms and the hair slowly rising to stand at attention on the back of his neck. His heart was pounding in his ears, and he was struggling to hear over its deafening sound. But he had to hear. It was the only thing that could save him now.

His back leaning against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall, he tried to control his rapid breathing. He strained his ears to see if he could hear it again. The sound that had forced him to flee the comfort of his bed and race down the hallway, his hand gun pulled out of the hallway draw on the way. Now it lay beside him – he didn’t dare touch it in case his paranoia had him firing at walls and shadows.

He knew he was alone when he went to bed. He had no pets, he had no neighbours living miles from the local town, he had not seen his family in a decade, and he hadn’t told them where he ran away to. He had not told a soul for two years that his name was Jason. He was alone. But something was with him in the wee hours of that morning. That ‘something” was not supposed to be there.

Now he was trapped between urging the ‘something’ to appear so he could ‘take care of it’, as his military father would have put it, and praying that there was nothing there but his vivid imagination. Disjointed images of his childhood filled his mind for a split second, visions of camouflage green pants lying on his dad’s bed, the sound of the key unlocking the gun cabinet, the laughs of his Dad’s friends as stories were told of “scum” that had died at the hands of his father. He swallowed the memories and focused again on the situation he had just found himself in.

When he ran into the bathroom he had tapped the light on as an instinctual move, and on re-thinking a few moments later had flicked it off not wanting to highlight his location in the old house. Now as he thought about it more, perhaps he had made it even more obvious turning the light off again. Still he justified the move to himself by reminding himself over and over again that with one of his senses demobilised the others should work better. That was the theory. He wasn’t too sure it was working.

With all this thought and the sound of his heart filling his ears he had missed the crucial hurried movement of the intruder in his house, who had now moved into the bathroom with him and was waiting for the right moment to lay the silencer tip of his hand gun against his head. The intruder, known as “The Taker” by his friends loved that part the most. He would always brag that he could smell the fear of the victim as they realised they had a gun to their head.

He didn’t kill for money, although he took whatever he could from each victim’s house – to make it look like a robbery gone bad. He killed for the power. He killed because he could, and he was usually very good at it. He had killed for someone else all his life, and now he killed for himself. But he was getting cocky. This was victim number 30 and it had become too easy.

As The Taker slowly raised his gun forward to place it against Jason’s head his gun clipped something and in his surprised state he pulled his hand away. The noise was undeniably scary to both of them. In the dark it fell like a rock through glass, shattering the silence and awakening both to the realisation they were both equally at risk now of having their lives taken.

Jason knew that something heavy had clipped the metal towel railing in front of him. Having a gun himself he knew that the heavy object was in fact a gun. His Dad had raised him with guns instead of toys. He had refused to use one until now. He was not even sure he had loaded it properly, or if the magazine was full. He would have to take his chances though. This was life or death- his life or his death.

The Taker could hear his victim’s excited breathing; he guessed he was sitting about a metre from him at the most. His only choice now was to aim the gun low and use rapid fire to get to his victim before his victim had a chance to move. This was not the way he wanted to do it. He wanted to kill him not out of fear or panic, but out of desire.

Both men raised their guns simultaneously in the hope they would have the advantage over the other.

Jason slid up the wall, gun aimed in front of him with his right hand, his left hand sliding up the door frame nearby aiming to reach the light switch. The Taker took a deep breath and placed his finger on the cold steel trigger. Jason finding what he was feeling for, flicked the switch and the light blinded the men momentarily, before they focused their sight and opened fire on one another. The Taker took one shot to the shoulder, and barely felt a thing. It was on the second pull of The Takers own trigger that the look of recognition spread across Jason’s dying face and the Taker paused for just long enough to realise he had just killed his son.

Taken - Crime Time Weekly Challenge 1

Flic Manning

St Kilda, Australia

  • Artist
    Notes
  • Artwork Comments 22

Artist's Description

My Submission for the first weekly challenge of the Crime Time group.

Artwork Comments

  • Lisa  Jewell
  • Flic Manning
  • jcmontgomery
  • Flic Manning
  • Van Cordle
  • Flic Manning
  • Diesel Laws
  • Flic Manning
  • MillicentMorrow
  • Flic Manning
  • Alison Pearce
  • Flic Manning
  • Lawford
  • Flic Manning
  • Banalheed
  • Flic Manning
  • fixtape
  • Flic Manning
  • MillicentMorrow
  • Flic Manning
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

10% off

for joining the Redbubble mailing list

Receive exclusive deals and awesome artist news and content right to your inbox. Free for your convenience.