Draw

He sat on the beach and admired the sunset. He could see beauty everywhere, even in a grain of sand, and yet a sunset at sea had its undeniable charm. He could also see evil in everything; such was his nature, swinging from one extreme to the other. He watched the last rays of the sun disappear below the horizon, as night drove out the last signs of daylight. Dressed in black, he almost completely blended into his surroundings. Only a few knew what was coming when he donned black. Madness, running nearby, thought someone was going to get hurt today, and he wouldn't want to be around when it happened. Poor little Madness was absolutely right. He was in a foul mood; sometimes it happened to him, after all, he had the right to be; he was only human. After all, everyone has bad days sometimes. Fortunately, few people end them the way he did. He sat and wondered what to do. He could drink some more and try to sleep. He quickly dismissed the idea; it wasn't an option. He decided to do what he always did, what he'd done every night for years. He got up and headed towards the town. He actually liked these small tourist towns, always full of bustling people. The air was saturated with voices, scents, and emotions. He absorbed them all like a dry sponge drinking water. Slowly, without rushing, he began searching for prey. He knew he'd find one eventually; that was never a problem. He passed a few petty thieves, merchants of white death, but that wasn't it. He knew that to unwind from all the nightmares he'd witnessed lately, he had to find someone truly evil. Had he finally seen him, perhaps smelled him? Who knew, that was his goal. He examined him closely, knowing it wouldn't be easy, but he loved a challenge. He liked destroying them, watching them plummet into the abyss. He looked at the visitor once more. Am I overestimating my strength? he thought. The guy looks like a dullard, and these guys have no imagination. I might not be able to handle him. Lucek, the good old chap, should be the one to handle him, but he's not here, so why not try? He never knew when to back down. Following his target step by step, he got to know them, read their thoughts. After a few minutes, he'd had enough. "I'll go crazy next to him," the thought flashed through his mind. Fortunately, the march ended, the man he was following entered the hotel, and he looked around for a hiding place. He quickly found a dark spot to hide, sat down, and began to calm down. He didn't know what form to take, so he decided to improvise. He put a blade of grass in his mouth and began to chew, doing it rather automatically, without thinking. He was ready, closed his eyes, and flew away.

He entered the hotel, passed the reception desk, and went to the room where his mission awaited. He looked around: a typical hotel room, and a typical slob sleeping peacefully in bed. He thought for a moment, then entered his dream. As he expected, he found complete emptiness. He knew he'd have to work hard. Now he wished he'd simply shot the guy the old-fashioned way, a bullet to the back of the head. But that would have been so brutal, so lacking in finesse. He realized that when he was angry, he was not much different from the devil. Luck would have liked that, he thought. Of all the living, he was the only one with the audacity to call Lucifer Luck; the old devil didn't mind; after all, he too slept sometimes and didn't care to have an unpleasant guest in his dreams. He began searching, knowing his target was somewhere nearby, and found him calm, downright happy. He was sitting at a table, sipping a cocktail. Without a word, he sat down at the table.

"What the fuck are you looking for?" The question was clearly directed at him. He smiled; he liked people with a rich vocabulary.

"You, I came to talk about a certain incident from three years ago."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" "If they gave out Oscars for any lack of facial expression, the guy would get a statuette every year." "Think about it, I'm not talking about those three hitters from the competition, I'm not talking about your sidekick, so who the fuck do you think I'm talking about? Maybe a certain fourteen-year-old girl? A pretty blonde with blue eyes and a head full of dreams? That's exactly who I'm talking about. And it's her you'll die for tonight, not the others, they were scum like you, I don't care, you'll die for her alone. You probably don't even know her name. Jesus, you're a scumbag. Luckily, I finally found you; it's too late for many, but your elimination will definitely save a few people. You don't deserve to live, you shouldn't have been born at all." He fell silent, feeling that the guy didn't understand what he was saying. So he decided to remind him, knowing it wouldn't do any good, but he had to try. "Remember, three years ago, a beautiful, warm evening, you went for a walk with your dog. You were wandering aimlessly, not knowing what to do with yourself. Kicking the dog didn't improve your mood, did you? Do you remember the moment you saw her? She was walking through the park, pushing a stroller with her younger brother in front of her. Shall I tell you what she was wearing? She was wearing a long blue dress, sandals on her feet. She had her hair down, and her eyes were literally shining with happiness. She was enjoying the beginning of summer. Vacation. She had so many plans, so many hopes, so many dreams. She had you on her way too." He paused for a moment and pondered. He didn't like experiencing such dramas, what did he have to do now. "Remember how you walked up to her, snatched the stroller from her, grabbed her by the hair, and dragged her to a place where no one could disturb you? Fuck, you're a cold-hearted son of a bitch... After you ripped her clothes off, didn't you think you were hurting her? That you were hurting a child?" Tell me, how is it that her screams don't wake you up at night? Probably because right after she started screaming, you hit her so hard she lost consciousness, at least she didn't feel what you were doing to her. The only thing I really don't understand is why, after raping her, you didn't leave her alone and go home? Why did you kick that battered body until it resembled a bloody rag? The last sentence hung in the air. If he could, he would have beaten him right there, with his bare hands. In the world of dreams, he had absolute power, but unfortunately not over life.

"I thought no one knew about this, no one saw what I did to her. No one, it was just a dream, a stupid memory, and I'm already scared." He started laughing loudly.

"You're right, it's just a dream, but I'm very real. Unfortunately for you, someone did see it. A little boy, her two-year-old brother. You see, children remember a lot; they might not be able to interpret it, but their brains register what they see. I came across this boy a while ago, and he didn't know he remembered it, but I discovered it, and of course, I erased it from his memory. If you'd killed him then, too, I might never have known, but the truth has come to light. And how do you feel about that? Seeing your end?

" "I know who you are now," he said. "They call you the Nightmare Lord! You sneak into dreams and conjure the worst visions, you summon nightmares that drive people insane. I knew a guy you drove to suicide, and another who went insane. He's still in the loony bin to this day, shitting himself whenever he hears footsteps in the hallway. Yes, I know you. And I'm not afraid of you." You can't do anything to me, I could wake up at any moment and get you out of my head. And just so you know, if I met that sweet whore again, I'd do exactly the same to her as I did to the first one.

"You only think you know me, no one does, but you're right about one thing: you really could wake up at any moment and get me out of your head. But will you be safe? I don't know." Now he knew he'd lost this round, wondering what to do: keep trying or give up.

"You won," he said, "I can't do anything to you, so goodbye, I hope your conscience comes back to you someday.

" "Fuck off," he heard in response.

He returned to his body, opened his eyes, and stood up. He walked to the balcony, grabbed the railing, and began pulling himself up. A fragment of the song "...and only a win, a draw is out..." played in his head. A moment later, he was on the second floor. He entered through the slightly ajar door, approached the bed, pulled a beautifully crafted Tokarev pistol from his belt holster, and attached the silencer. He placed the barrel against the sleeping man's head. He wondered whether to wake him; the scoundrel didn't deserve to face death, but on the other hand, he desperately wanted to see his fear. He punched him in the face. The guy woke up immediately, staring at him with sleepy eyes, unsure of what was going on.

"Kasia, that was her name. I forgot to tell you she forgave you. She was a good child." He looked into his terrified eyes and pulled the trigger. The head shattered into pieces. He stared at the corpse at his feet for a moment longer, then quietly left the room. He wondered how to handle this game. Had he won or lost? Let it be a draw, he decided. He went out into the street and headed toward the beach; he wanted to see the sunrise. He liked beauty...