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An American Dream

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An American Dream Samus Stared into the unblinking black eye in front of him, it stared back, it judged him, and he knew that the careful, meticulous planning was wasted, and that he had been judged. The barrel of the gun expelled its ammunition, and Samus fell into a kind of darkness that he had never experienced before, beyond unconsciousness or sleep, as he knew he would never awake. Earlier that day, Samus awoke. He knew that today he would finally carry out the carefully planned robbery that he had been preparing for. He had spent the night in a motel so that nobody would see him leave his house; it wasn't welcoming, but it was cheap, and after all spending the night in a decrepid motel was little justification for him not to go through with his plan, nothing was in fact, Samus saw the whole heist as an entirely positive thing, even if there were causalities, which he suspected there probably would be, In his mind that would simply be a bump in the road, in his road, because this is what he was meant to do, his devotion was not dissimilar to that of a doctor, a teacher or a police officer, all of which are careers that if he had had the opportunity, he would have done, but he couldn't do any of them. ...read more.


He pressed his fingers on the front desk. "Excuse me,"..."Excuse me." "Huh?" "I left my jacket in my room can I have the key?" Slowly the Mexican stood up, and dusted fragments of crisps from his shirt, he then walked over towards where the keys hung "Number?" "err 7" "Lucky eh?" He took the key and walked round to room number seven inserted the key and turned it... "It wasn't even locked" "Sorry" Samus walked in, grabbed his jacket and walked out, the Mexican closed the door behind him and locked it and for the second time that same day Samus exited the motel. He got into his car and rolled up a cigarette, lit up and smoked it on the way to his rendezvous. Alex was already there, considerably better dressed than Samus, wearing a black suit with no hat. Samus got out of his car and walked into the restaurant. Greeted by the smell of McDonalds, he ordered a cheeseburger. "Have a nice day" "Thank you" He took his food to where Alex was sitting, "Hello my friend" Alex was eating a paltry breakfast, Samus sat down and unwrapped his burger. He lifted it up to his mouth and took a large bite, savouring the manufactured taste as he had for every other one of the hundreds or so that he had already eaten in his life, this one was the same as every other ...read more.


It spoke and Samus knew what to do. In his delirious state he deciphered what it said. Half on purpose, half by accident and by order of the bag he slammed on his breaks and swerved for a tree that lay by the side of the road. Samus regained consciousness around him was blue and grey, the clouded sky hung above him as frayed as his sanity. In his left hand was the bag full of money and in his right hand was the gun. He looked for Alex. Alex was dead. Thoughts flickered in Samus's mind. Police. Money. Success. Failure. Death. Then he began to understand and reality hit him like a shot in the head, stealing the money had gained him nothing, he was still Samus, he still had no friends, he wasn't a success, he had failed. He now knew that money didn't measure success and that it only corrupts, like it had corrupted him. His American dream had become an American nightmare, he heard police sirens, his time was up, he raised his arms, and then let the bag go, it hit the floor, he put the gun up to his head, and pulled the trigger, the money tumbled onto the road. It was stained though; stained red, stained with blood, stained with greed. ...read more.

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