Off to Work

The alarm went off. Again. He rolled over to his side and switched it off. He was still so tired. Maybe he should’ve just taken one sleeping pill instead of two, he thought. Oh well. He stretched his arms and yawned. Then slowed pulled the blanket off. He stood up. As he tried to walk, he stumbled and almost fell, but then balanced himself. He scratched his chin as he went to the door and looked through his mail. Just the usual: a few advertisements, and a faded yellow envelope with his name addressed in red, bold letters.

He washed his face and made himself breakfast. As he took a bite of his nearly- burnt toast, he opened the letter.

Another call of duty. (It ran) This time behind the post office.

Middle aged, grey hair, brown worn out coat. Confront in the rear end of the alley. Use minimal force — do not disfigure. Insert knife through the second rib on the left and then withdraw. Impose mild concussion to head. Do not leave until death has been made certain. If successful, you will find payment behind the third sack in the next alley. Use same sack to hide body.

11:45 a.m.

Just another day. How tedious it was, he thought. Working, working, working. Six days a week. Perhaps if he saved enough money, he could take a week off. Go up north perhaps? Somewhere people didn’t display their vulnerabilities out in the open. Somewhere real people existed, not just sacks of blood and muscle and tissue.

If only he could meet his contractor again. But he didn’t know where to find him. Just another day. It was really hot today. Nevertheless, he took his coat. It was supposed to rain. At least that’s what the weather forecast said. Off to work, he thought, as he locked his front door. Off to work as he walked down the road with cherry trees. It was already half past eleven.

And people called him a murderer.


17 thoughts on “Off to Work

    • It may appear to be so. But it shows human mentality. Some people would genuinely not see anything wrong with what they do to make a livelihood. And some people can go to ANY extreme. (Perhaps this was a bit too much but I wanted readers to see)

      Liked by 1 person

      • But there’s a whole back story to it. Kind of reminds me of another blogger’s novel – where 2 characters are forcibly in a similar line of work (though not this extreme), not by choice – but because they’re forced to.

        I believe that only those whose hearts have become totally blackened can live with this kind of thing as normal, without conscience.

        But until they’re approaching death, there’s always hope for a change.

        Liked by 2 people

        • I’d love to see the novel.
          It’s true, and that’s something we see everyday. Of course it starts of with something small, like a little corruption here, a little there. But then there’s people who have the blood of so many people on their hands and don’t feel regret. It all starts somewhere. And it gradually increases until it reaches a level like this. That man represents all of us — he is doing something we find unforgivably disgusting. But there’s people who might think something we have done as the same.
          In urdu, there’s this verse: “umeed par dunya qaim hai” which roughly translates to “the world is based on hope”
          It all starts with something tiny, and then they go on to rob countries and manipulate nations.
          Change is my only hope.

          Liked by 1 person

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