Rivals in Dreams

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
One of those dreams that makes you feel sad when you wake up from it.

Submitted: May 16, 2015

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Submitted: May 16, 2015



Two rival snipers are having a duel at an unknown canyon, not necessarily located in our own realm. One of them is a shadowy figure wearing a cowboy hat, and the other is a shiny gray phantom wearing a long duster coat that covered his body. Neither of them had a face.

The shadowy figure was hiding on the side of the canyon that had a night sky, and the gray phantom confidently moved around spots on the side with a bright and sunny sky. These opposing forces stealthily took shots at each other, sometimes missing by mere centimeters. The gray phantom would look down the scope of his strange sniper rifle, feeling the intense heat of the sun that also helped him see the other dark side of the canyon. He spotted the shadowy figure, and shot his hat off. The shadowy man quickly ran to recover his cowboy hat. It was, for some reason, his main priority.

The duel was far from over, and after a whole week of this, they were no longer at the nameless canyon in that unknown location. The setting quickly changed to a straight road in the middle of nowhere. There was one small building on each side, one for the shadowy man and one for the gray phantom. It was night time, but there were light posts radiating blue lights. The night was forever, and the snipers kept shooting at each other, both of them being much more aggressive this time. They fought for what seemed like hundreds of years, but after an unspecified amount of time, they both grew tired. A strange feeling settled in, and they no longer cared. They wanted to end it. They allowed each other to step as far back as they could. The shadowy figure went to the end of one side of the road. The road plummeted to a starlit infinity. The gray phantom did the same, but that side of the road stopped at a wall with a rusty red door on it.

The blue lights wet out, and only the stars provided light. They both took shots in the dark, but they did not move or attempt to look for safety. They were determined now: one of them would certainly die. They both felt an intense sadness, for they realized how useless their fight was. They didn't even remember why they were fighting, but they were. They had to stop it now. Forever. They each heard a tune in their head. It was an old backwards and forwards tune that they both recognized. Perhaps at some point, they were friends. They no longer remembered. The sound of the tune and the extremely loud shots mixed in together, almost in a very beautiful way, but still saddening to the stars that were witnessing the possible life that was about to end.

The gray phantom did not aim anymore. He held his rifle with one arm, and shot at the very far side of the dark road. He hoped the stray shot would somehow catch the shadowy figure. The shadowy figure did the same. As if communicating, the shadowy man fired a shot in the air after the gray phantom shot his, as if to tell him that he was not hit. Shot after shot, they both tried to hit each other with stray bullets.

After a long and meaningless struggle, the shadowy man finally managed to hit the gray phantom. He was shot in the stomach. The gray phantom didn't feel pain, but he knew he was badly hurt. The strange cosmic black bullets they used were not the type that humanity could ever use, or even understand. The gray phantom was bleeding, but he was not dead just yet. He also fired one last shot, and after he did, he looked down his scope to check on the shadowy man. His eyes were now completely adjusted to the dark, and he was able to make out the shape of that rival shadow. The hat-wearing shadow man fell to the endless unknown behind him. His life was taken instantly. Before he fell, the gray phantom saw the hole on the shadow's head through his scope, and saw he was bleeding out a black liquid with small stars inside. 

The gray phantom felt a deep relief. The seemingly eternal duel was now over. He walked over to the wall that was behind him, and rested for a few minutes. He was bleeding a pure red blood, and when he saw it, he felt human again for the first time in a long while. He looked at the rusty door, and decided to open it.

Inside was a room reminiscent of a hospital's waiting room, and it was full of the people he knew and loved. They were all sitting down, and looked at the phantom as he went in. "Thank God you're alright!" an old woman yelled out in relief, as she walked towards the phantom. The gray phantom covered up his wound with his coat, and he slowly went to every person there, trying not to speak too much. Every word he let out shortened his life.

After he greeted them all, he sat down on the floor and slammed his back against the wall. "Call an ambulance! He needs help!" the people were in a panic, and searched for help.

At the very last seconds of his life, he remembered the long duel. The phantom whispered to himself..

"I'm glad I got to see all of you one last time."

And the only witnesses to that duel in a dream were the stars that watched over them all this time. Perhaps those stars are always the same, with their gentle light that soothes the life about to end.

© Copyright 2019 Dave Davidson. All rights reserved.

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