He tried to recall the dream. He remembered the whole dream but couldn’t figure out where he was standing. Suddenly it came to him in a flash. He was the murderer. He had killed his wife. He ran to the phone desperate to know if his wife was still alive. The phone seemed to ring for a lifetime.
“Hello” a woman’s voice said. He sighed in relief.
After breakfast the man pondered upon returning to his room. Maybe the dream was trying to tell him something. But why was he killing her? He asked himself. The dream had always missed that part out. He kept telling himself that in the end it was just a dream but didn’t seem to get the images of his wife out of his head. He had some sort of a peculiar feeling but he just didn’t know what it was.
Straight after the meeting he started his journey home. As he neared his destination he came to an abrupt halt. In front was darkness except a dim light in the distance. He had seen this before and he knew it. It was from his dream. This was no coincidence. His wife was in danger. He sped off, frightened for his wife’s safety and life. As he arrived to his house he realised a car was parked in his drive. Was he too late? He crept into the house as not to alert the murderer. To his horror his wife was kissing another man. His mind went blank. He had a sudden urge to hit someone. Anger rose up in side him. He was boiling. He ran to the kitchen fetched the first thing in his sight, a knife, and charged into the room. He jabbed the knife into the mans back several times. His wife’s screams rang around the room. He couldn’t take it anymore. He thrust the knife into his partner’s heart. He looked at them in disgust. They were lying in pools of blood. He felt no regret but felt pleased. He liked it. He felt good killing them. They both deserved it he whispered under his breath. He cleaned himself up and left the house. With no place in mind he started the car and drove off. After an hour of driving he stopped at the side of the road. His eyelids felt heavy and he needed some sleep. As he placed his head on his hands he didn’t fell naked skin, he felt something soft. Gloves! He thrust his hand into the air in delight. No fingerprints were there. He could get away with it, but he knew he would have to leave America behind. Everything he had worked for. Everything he owned he had to leave behind. Surprisingly he didn’t care. His wife whom he had been with for 5 years dead and he didn’t have any feeling. Why did he feel refreshed? Why did he want to kill more people? What was wrong with him? He was thirsty for more. He had difficulty sleeping. Partly to do with the fact he had no space in his car but also because of himself. Why was he different? Why was this exactly like his dream? He didn’t want to sleep in case of another dream, but his body couldn’t cope. Slowly his eyes came to a close.
Whoosh. Where was he? He looked around, there was a shop, a man was running towards him, he was chasing the man. As quick as a flash the man lay there dead. Rain appeared.
He woke panting, drenched in sweat. For some reason he wasn’t scared. He was relishing the chance of killing another person. It was the early morning so he set off for the airport. He stopped off on the way as he wanted to stretch his legs. As he got out of the car a man came round the corner. He caught the eye of the passer by and realised it was the man from the dream. He grabbed a broken bottle close by and started to chase him. The man from the dream ran away panic stricken, he tripped over a cracked pavement and fell to the floor. In the blink of an eye he lay their blood gushing out of him. All of a sudden it started to rain heavily. The murderer ran to his car and hurried off to the airport. Luckily there were no witnesses. Or was it luck? The rain had washed away all the evidence.
With his tickets clutched in his hands he sat down in the lounge waiting to board the plane. His thoughts only of whom his next victim would be. As he walked through the security detectors, a bleeping noise sounded. Abruptly he fell to the floor with a seething headache. Suddenly his eyesight went blurry and everything blanked out.
Meanwhile, in the secret headquarters of the R.C.B. (robot crime busters) somewhere in America, an explosion of sound erupted.
“Operation R1257 has broken down, some technical fault I think”
“Ok switch to Operation R1999, we can’t fail now”
30 000 miles away a boy of eleven years woke with a start. The screams still echoing in his ears…
