Friday, May 23, 2008


It was 3:30am on the dot when I heard gun shots outside my window. A deep bass and crack from somewhere filled the silent night. I sat in my room wondering who was shot and if there was a dieing man at that very moment taking his last breaths. Violently gasping for air, gargling and choking on his own blood as it filled his throat. I heard police sirens in the distance and some more gunshots, so I knew there was a fire fight. What were they using? Shotguns, glocks, .357 magnums, they had to have been using something with a punch because after a couple of moments of silence a final deep drum like thud rushed into my ears and I knew it was over. I imagined that last shot to be a desperate man's escape from a justice system that would have locked him away forever. A shotgun to the head I imagined, leaving nothing but a bloody mess and a haunting image for whoever was unfortunate enough to witness it. After that last shot I could hear dogs howling in the distance, some barking in the wake of the chaos and some howling to the moon. What happened out there in that night? There must be a bloody crime scene out there waiting to be investigated, dead bodies lying on the ground in unnatural poses, brain chunks sprayed around sparatically, empty shells sprinkled over the ground, dead faces waiting to gaze deep into someone's subconscious. Whatever happened was no business of mine but that fear ran down my spine because I knew it could have easily become my business. Someone died that night and I heard the sounds of that death. A double barrel grinding against his teeth and then click, nothing left but a disturbing image ready to keep me awake at night. For me the night rushed back as soon as silence filled the air but out there, the night had just begun.
-Armando Torres