Axeslinger

Somewhere in the Dark Future…………..
 

            The roar of the crowd echoes in his head as he lies sprawled across the bathroom floor. He looks over at the wall and touches it with his hand. He can feel the vibration of the crowd on the other side. He looks up at the ceiling, and stares at the light watching his vision go in and out of focus. He could call out and they would save him, but why? All they would do is prolong his life just to make more money from his pain.  Then when he has nothing left to take they will cast him aside with less than nothing leaving him empty and soulless.

             He imagines the head lines after he is found, and the glory his memory will be showered with, and the sadness of his fans, he smiles for a moment then has a horrid vision. He sees the profit to be had from his death…. He looks back at the wall the fans are still chanting his name. They stay there waiting for him to return. To let him know they understand his pain, they feel his pain.

 His eyes come into focus and he looks around. He sees his Chrome Ibanez shining back at him, calling to him with an angelic voice. He reaches out to it and feels its draw him in. He hears the crowd more clearly now, and it strengthens him. He rolls to his side and gets on all fours still trying to reach his axe, his first axe, the axe he shot and killed a man over when he was 16.

 His vision comes completely into focus and he sees his Ibanez not in the bathroom with him but leaning against the couch in his dressing room He can see the Ibanez shimmering in the light dangling overhead from the open bathroom door.

He steadies himself on all fours and tries to stand. He staggers and stumbles as he gets to his feet. He reaches over to the sink and grabs it to hold himself up and leans against it. He looks down at the sink and turns on the water. He splashes cold water on his face and looks in the mirror. He does’t recognize the man he sees before him.

 The reflection stares back at him while he takes his hands and studies the features of his face. He pinches his skin and runs his fingers over the angles of his face. He watches intently as the mirror mimics his every move. He pauses for a moment of reflection and realizes that it’s not the face he doesn’t recognize but the man staring back at him with empty hollow eyes.

 He bangs his fist against the mirror, but nothing happens the reflection doesn’t perform the act nor does the mirror break. He does it again with the same result. He yells at the reflection and hits the mirror continuously with no effect. The reflection stares right at him and flashes a wicked smile and walks away from the mirror leaving him standing at the mirror shouting and banging on it.