That one millisecond in time, where life flashes before their eyes, the look of horror plasters on their face, and they know, that every inch of their body is screaming, “MOVE!” but they cant. It’s a crumb, but to its importance, it is the gravity to the earth; without it, we would be lost. In this case, the person who is in this impending doom has nothing short of a second to react before his whole world comes crashing to an end.
An entrepreneur from the start, Allen Gainesberry was a normal man. A good life, a loving family, and a hefty paycheck every week. His Job would rake in around 6 figures every year, leaving his wife and two children a luxurious life. But there was always something missing from his world, he felt tied down, loss of interest at home was apparent, and everything seemed dull. He felt the last fifteen years of his life were just an ever ending re-run of, “Married with Children.” Where nothing ever really happens, it just keeps going and going.
A sudden lay off at work had kept Allen on edge, every little action was spotted by him, counting steps of coworkers walking passed his office was an obvious sign of anxiety. It was debilitating, almost to the point of ripping his hair out, and, leaving the office immediately. The second sign came on later at a press meeting; faculty and employees who worked under him soon became much more important in his eyes. He felt apprehension, nerves at an all time high; he didn’t understand what was happening to him. Dark violet circles would blotch out his vision for a few seconds leaving him light headed. Everyone in the room seemed to be magnetized to his every move; even he noticed the looks. He tried to ignore the incessant eye movements towards him, but found himself darting his face back up just to try and catch a glance.
His hands were the first to go in that room, constant tremors would shake his fingers to an almost ridiculous degree; his almost perfect handwriting became disfigured and almost unreadable. People stared at this motion the most, it wasn’t a concern, but it was terrifying to a few, and others just repressed any notion something was wrong. Allen was a quiet man, not shy, just laid back, and let things work themselves out. At this moment he was scared out of his mind, he knew something was wrong, but he didn’t know what to do.
Soon he would be standing up to say his report on profits; the simple thought of standing up was a crushing blow, and this once proud and courageous man was feeling trepidation towards any movement. Knots built up in his stomach, pain shot through his body as cramps drove him wild. He counted the time in his head, “Fifty-Three…Fifty-Four…Fifty-Five…Roberts done…Fuck.” The crowd in the room became quiet; all eyes were on him as they waited for any sign of movement. Anticipation was building, everyone was eager, and he knew he had to do something. Time was slowing down though; every second seemed like an hour. Eyes red, pupils dilated clothes messy and not showing their formal glory; he stood up, sweat spots were systematically pointed out by everyone, they would go from arm pits, to chest, back up to his face. His hair was all over the place, beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and rolled down to his jaw.
He gave his award winning smile, but it came out like a nervous grin. Everyone chuckled and looked around like, “Is this guy serious?” It just got worse from there, his mind was on fire, and he literally felt like he was baking to death. It obviously showed on the outside, sweat stains, loosened tie, and unbuttoned shirt. This once prominent, flashy, and outstanding man had lost it. His blood was boiling as he said the first few lines, “This we-weeks qu-qua-quota was substantial-ly better than la-last weeks….” Everyone looked around, eyebrows raised in confusion, eyes wide. Ryan was the first to stand and say something, “Umm…You okay Allen? Do you need a drink?” Laughter was the first thing to come up, another man spoke, “Come on Al, your pulling our leg aren’t you?” Then another “Yeah this guys a jokester, bumbling idiot, yeah right.”
A crimson red face full of embarrassment and anger shot onto Allen’s already sweaty one. His vision blurry, body fully shaking, he did what any man who lost it would do. He ripped off his shirt, pulled off his tie and yelled, “FUCK THIS!” Jumping onto the table, he walked straight over to the two men who made him feel the worst and just said, “You know what? I am joking.” Then preceded by kicking the first guy, as hard as he, instantly breaking a few ribs, and sending him flying out of his chair into sheet rock behind him. The man next to him raised his hands, “Whoa! Man we were just kidding, look what you did to Brad?” Taking a second glance to his left, Allen noticed a man lodged ass first into a wall, and began to laugh maniacally. No one moved; they were frozen with fear of the same thing happening to them. Allen looked down at his shoe, it actually punctured Brad’s chest; leaving small remnants of blood and fragments of bone. A grin plastered to his face, he looked back up to the man. They were long time coworkers, some-what good friends, but hatred masked this mans face, and made him an enemy. “Is anyone laughing now?” The trembling coworker couldn’t find the words to speak, uncontrollable tears rolled down his face,
“Nnnn...Nnn…No… Na..No-one…issss…la-laughing Allen…bu-but…you.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Before he could say anything, Allen grabbed him by the collar pulling him up onto the table. The man lied there, sobbing, “Noooooo…P-pa-please…Allen!” Standing above him, laughing even louder now, “Sorry that’s not going to cut it.” He leaped into the air, letting all of his weight come crashing down onto the man’s chest. The table broke in half leaving everyone frantic, and even more confused at what they just saw.
Allen rose from the man, white shirt and face speckled with blood; looking around he saw dots masking their faces, and that’s when one person dressed in all black ran from the room.
“Oh, no you don’t!” Allen yelled. People looked around, but didn’t move like the other person. Fear over came any ideas of leaving, and Allen was in a state of complete senility without the age. A clear objective was on his horizon now as he ran after this person. He didn’t get a good view of them, or any clue to whom it was, but he was motivated. Coming around the cubicles, still in plain sight, he ran faster, but still at the same pace as the other man.
Only getting around a bend and seeing just a small visible amount of them did he know where they were going. “There’s no point in running! I’m going to get you!” He yelled. It was hopeless though, the person was just as motivated as him. Coming to the emergency exit doors, he frantically opened it, seeing the person just on the floor below him. He rushed after them, this time throwing anything in his pockets at them, pens, quarters, even his wallet. He lost it, everything in his mind that he once cared for was distant, non existent, hatred filled these spots.
At the entrance doors he didn’t even stop, jumping straight through the two glass doors. Glass sliced, his skin, even sticking into his body. Adrenaline took away the pain though, he pushed onward. Only looking down when he noticed a lot of blood, he saw a large 6-inch piece of glass stuck in his thigh. He brushed it off, paying closer attention to his objective.
The man dressed in all black was now hunched over in the middle of the street trying to catch his breath; he was facing the opposite direction still. Allen was blind to his face and identity, but he didn’t care. He ran as fast as he could, blood dotting the ground behind him, he came right up behind the man leaping towards him. Time slowed down again, the man stood back up, but this time he turned around, and looked at Allen. The grin and once anger filled face of a loving husband and father turned to confusion and dismay. His eyebrows once turned upwards at the corners eased back down, and the grin opened up slightly to let out, “What?”
At that millisecond, Allen didn’t see the face of a coworker, he saw his face. As he crashed into the body of this person he closed his eyes, and wished it was a dream. He found himself not hitting a solid object; he opened them and realized he’s going straight through them. He quickly said, “What is wrong with me!” As he came through the body, a car hit him straight on, his body laid limp as he crashed through the windshield and died on impact.
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