Nightmares. Fictional delusions of the subconscious that plague our dream world. I do not dream, so how can I be having nightmares? Or more specifically a nightmare; its always the same. Always in the same world, a place dispossessed of any sanity. Edification of a scene from hell. All of the people there are cold and displaced, always trying to go somewhere, be someone else. There is no unity, and nobility is a word rarely uttered out of the peoples gray lips. Across this cursed place rage the fires where the innocent are still burned. The king of the people sits upon his throne looking over his subjects as they suffer in anguish trying to reach his feet. A hall of blind, deaf, and speechless lepers. Their king is greed, their queen is lust, and their country is betrayal. But... I don't have nightmares, I don't dream. Which means... I am awake.

Its 9/5/2012, ten o' clock PM. I look down at my victim. "I apologize to keep you waiting." I take the serrated combat knife in my hand. Something about the feel of the blade in my hand always sends chills down my spine. The soft handle reminds me of the skin of my deceased lover. Don't worry I didn't kill her. It is the destructive nature of the blade that gives me chills, or maybe its the fact that when compared to something so small the human body is completely vulnerable.

I see something out of the corner of my eye. I swing, the blood rushing to my head causes me to forget a few seconds in between. Looking down I see the small spider skewered under the tip of the blade. I hate those things. Now where was I, oh yes of course something so small can bring about your death. Blood rushes down from my head slowly the world fades back in. The woman tied to the bed next to me is still crying. Who is she? Is she a bad person? A madwoman? A psychopath? No, I would never hurt a single one of those wonderful people. I wouldn't take complete mental and emotional freedom away from any human being. But this... bitch next to me is a stuck up lawyer, a real pin strip-brazier-I hold my pinkie out-whore. She isn't free, not from stress, or any of the other worldly traits of the human slave.

A truly free mind wouldn't be crying and it sickens me to see her laying there quivering in fear. "Awwww, SHUT UP!" I yell at her which only causes a louder scream. I stride over and lean above her. "Can't you see what I am doing? Don't you realize that I am setting you free? Aren't you happy?"

"P-please let me go, I-I have money lots of money please I'll give you whatever you want just let me go!" She begs me. The mighty human race, brought to begging in their final hour. I am voiceless in my angst and nothing can take us back to innocence. Short, sharp, bloodlust reality. The human race all too obsessed by weakness we have brought ourselves to meaninglessness.

"I don't want you money... I want to help you." I reply coyly to her smiling.

"Then let me go! That is the best help you can give me!" She says eagerly. These people never understand what is best for them.

"Don't worry I don't plan on killing you I only want to send a message." I say with a warming smile to her.

"R-really? Oh thank.." I frown and she stops.

"I'm sorry I can keep faking this all night if it makes this any easier on you." I turn the corner of my lips up in a feint smirk.

"Please god no please... Please" She begins to pray. I stand up from leaning over her looking to the sky shrugging my shoulders. And where are the angels to guard? Where is the God of men and children? He never seems to show does he?

"No I am sorry there is no god. Not here tonight anyway, and certainly not for you." The sobbing continues. I am growing bored of this, there is no way I will ever convince her I am truly helping her. I look at the knife, then to her. They say never look into the eyes of the person your killing because they will haunt you forever. I don't believe in that, when I kill someone I look into their eyes, because in their dieing moments, I feel that I can see their souls being released and true freedom being granted. I hold the knife above her, which causes an awful lot of screaming, yelling, and crying. Beginning to move the knife. Slowly changing the position. The sum of the parts of our souls. The process quickens, continues to grow. Never ceasing, getting stronger, getting louder, the pulse of life, the heart beating, the blood rushing. The scream, the flow of blood, the river of tears, and in her eyes... fear. I know it's right and I know it's time for freedom to kill another, and to kill another till there are none left...

Behind me the door its broken down and shots are fired, I feel the lead pierce my flesh and the blade drop harmlessly from my hand. Slowly decreasing, deceleration of the world around me, slowing down, losing momentum. As I fade from existence in this world my last sensation was the warm feel of my victims blood on my face and my head on her soft breast.

I am ascending to the sky I can see blue and clouds passing by me,and me through them. The air is fresh and crisp like the early morning, and my body is weightless. This must be what dreaming is like. Its 9/5/2012, you know I think I have a new idea. 2012 is suppose to be the end of the world as we know it. What if, the end of the world... what if 2012 is personal. What if it isn't massively apocalyptic, but it is specific to each person. That each person dies in their own way, no meteor no exploding sun, no super volcano or earthquake. I know my victim died, and I died. Who knows, maybe my shooter died as well, and possibly ever person on the earth. Ah, but listen to me rambling. What do I care, I am free, I am dreaming, and I never want to stop...