Short Story Sunday: One for the Money

One for the Money

                “So, your plan to fix our lack of rent is to rob a bank? Is that right or did I just have a flash of insanity?” Kyam asked his brother. The boy moved on the tattered couch, so that he could see his brother lighting up a cigarette.

                “That’s the plan. Think about it, it’s perfect. We wear elaborate disguises, and they will never know that it was us,” Godric said.

                “This can’t be good for our overall future,” Kyam said.

                The lights started to flicker heavily, and everything went black suddenly. Kyam could feel cold air blowing on his face like winter had sprang through the walls. As the lights came back up, Kyam was standing in the center of a vault holding a bag of money. Slung over his shoulder was an Ak47. He wasn’t exactly certain of what had happened.

                “We’ve got to go, bro. The cops are coming right now,” Godric said from outside the vault. He poked his head through the circular doorway, and gestured for Kyam to come to him.

                Kyam jumped to the door, and he was frightened to see several people lying on the floor soaked in blood. There were only a few people who were left alive, and each of them was cowering behind the teller counter.

                “What did you do?” Kyam asked.

                “I didn’t do any of this. You did,” Godric said. They moved towards the door, and the cops appeared in front of them.

                “This can’t be good for our future,” Kyam said absently. The lights began to flicker again, and even the sun went black. Caught in the empty blackness, Kyam could feel the cold air press through the blackness. The same cold air smelling of peppermint that had pressed into his apartment. As the lights came back on, Kyam was standing in an open field holding a handgun. He didn’t recognize the gun, but he was pointing it at Godric.

                “This isn’t you! What are you doing?” Godric yelled.

                Kyam absently cocked the handgun. There was a complete lack of control that was pulling his strings like he was a puppet. “I told you this wasn’t good for our future! You didn’t listen to me! This made everything worse.”

                “And you think killing me will make it better?”

                “I’m pretty sure it will. You aren’t my brother anymore! You are something wicked,” Kyam said.

                Godric moved towards Kyam, eloquent and fluid in his movements. He grabbed the gun and moved it down to his chest. “You aren’t going to shoot me,” Godric said.

                “This isn’t good for our future,” Kyam said. Kyam pulled the trigger just as everything went black. The empty blackness consumed him and the peppermint air cooled him to the bone.

                As everything turned back on, Kyam found himself strapped into a strait jacket inside of a padded room. “My borther, my brother, where is he?” Kyam pressed his face to the wall, so that he could see through a tiny fissure in the bricks. Beyond the bricks of his room was a shop that sold sweets. He could smell their chocolates and their peppermints.

                “You never had a brother,” someone called through the wall.

                “This can’t be good for the past.” The empty blackness flickered outside the wall, and even more peppermint air flowed through the fissure in the wall. The blackness consumed Kyam, and as the lights came back up, he was sitting across a table from a woman. Between them was a magic eight ball. She had a blue monocle in one of her eyes.

                “You want to fix your money problems?”

                “Yes,” Kyam said.

                He whipped out a gun and pointed it at the woman. “Give me all of your money!” He said as tears welled in his eyes.

                She slammed a stack of money onto the counter. “If you take this money. No more good things will happen for you. You are destined to be consumed with blackness.”

                “I’ll take my chances.”