Aftermath of Complacency by pome lover Dream: 500 Words or Less contest entry |
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Sherry was having a nightmare. The following is the nightmare, in full: Sherry was watching the news. Hamas members were cutting off babies’ heads. American college students were protesting against Israel, and defending Hamas. Terrorists were filtering into her city from the border. Scared, she checked with her neighbors, Jim and Judy Statler. “Hello, Jim? This is Sherry, down the street. I’ve been listening to the news about the illegal gangs coming … you, too? I know. Well, what do you think about calling the police and seeing if they could patrol our neighborhood tonight, and maybe every night for a while. Yeah? You will? Great! And I was also thinking it’d be a good idea …ha ha, yep, I’m full of ‘em; anyway, a good idea for all of us on our street to keep our front porch lights and any other outdoor lights on all night, every night—light up the place. What do ya think? What? Ha ha, nope, don’t want to be Association President. Been there, done that. But seriously, I’ll text everybody on our street about their lights, and maybe you or Judy could text them about the police, after you talk to them. Wonderful. Thanks, Jim.” Jim reached in the fridge for another beer. His wife, Judy, asked, “Who was that?” “Oh, just Sherry, up the street, all worried after listenin’ to the news.” “Well, who isn’t? It’s scary and awful.” “Right.” “Well, what did she want?” “She says with gangs coming into our city, she wants me to call the police and see if they’ll patrol our neighborhood tonight and hopefully, longer. “That’s a good idea. You told her you would?” “Yeah.” “Well, Jim, do it now, please?” “In a minute, okay!” Later, that night, Sherry heard voices on her patio outside her bedroom. Three men were heading toward her adjoining sitting room door, which was glass! Sherry grabbed her cell phone, and running out of her room, yanked her purse off the bedroom doorknob. Racing down the hall to the garage, she heard the glass in the patio door shatter. Scared out of her wits, she punched the garage door opener and raced around, got in her car and locked it. Just as she started it, the men burst into the garage and surrounded her car. They tried to get in. One guy, apparently, punched the garage door opener to close it. Sherry hit the gas, backing out fast. A gun shot shattered her windshield, covering her with glass. Somehow, she got the car in the middle of the street and blew the horn, keeping her hand pressed on it. Lights came on all over the neighborhood. As the men ran past her car, one stopped, took aim, and shot her. The car crashed into a mailbox and stopped, with the horn still blowing. People came out and found their neighbor. Fire trucks and police came. Someone had called the police. It wasn’t Jim. Sherry woke up, screaming.
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