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Memories at the end of a barrel
The room was dark, a single desk lamp illuminated the dreary room. Sitting alone before the desk, Eric looked down at the items on the desk. A few pens and pencils standing in a mix within a coffee cup. The incense burner holding the line of ash from the last few burning sticks placed in it when a positive scent still mattered. An mp3 player sitting at the edge of the desk. No headphones were plugged into the device and its battery had long been dead. A few figurines stood in the same place they had been for over a year. Standing only a few inches tall, the video game collectibles were covered in the same layer of dust that encompassed the rest of the desk. Eric was leaning forward, resting both elbows on the wood. His left hand had its fingers mixed in with his hair. His right forearm laid out in the table, the hand resting atop a .45 caliber revolver. At the corner of the desk was a picture frame. The photograph within portrayed him standing behind a women with deep red hair, his arms wrapped around her. Her hands resting on his arms, the couple looked at the camera with the brightest smiles. It was a now sad memory that stared at him with only a look of pain. The opposite corner of the desk had a pair of picture frames. One had a photo of him with his nephew and the child's mother, his elder sister. The boy in the picture was no more then 5 years old, sitting on his mothers knee. A baseball glove on his hand that matched the one his uncle wore. They all smiled as if caught in the midst of laughter when the picture was taken. The picture next to it had the same three people, as well as the little boys grandparents and his aunt. The were all gathered around a barbecue at the grandparents home, enjoying a day of family, food and merriment. Memories frozen in time. The family photo was three years old. In that brief time, fate had decided to rip them apart. It seemed that one by one they were taken from this world. His parents were first in a plane crash. In route to their, funeral his younger sister died in a car accident. For two years Eric and his elder sister struggled to keep their sanity as they fought to deal with the turmoil with the aid of his crimson-haired lover. It was her kind heart, and the innocent love of his nephew that had kept the broken family strong, but it wasn't to last. His eldest sister and her son met the same fate as his younger sister when a semi-truck lost control on icy roads. Reaching her breaking point, his love left. In an attempt to maintain her own sanity, she booked a flight back to her home country, Ireland. Leaving Eric to writhe in the pain that only seemed to grow. Although her leaving didn't hurt him. At this point he was so numb, nothing seemed to matter. All the light of the world had been turned to nothing. His hopes and dreams burned to ashes. Those photos were nothing but reminders of a person that had long since faded away. A man who was once happy, with a beautiful family. That man was gone. Only a shell remained. A hollow person that had lost all hope in the world. How could such a beaming family be met with such fate? He looked down at the ring on the desk in front of him. It laid solemnly between him and the gun. The gold band had once belonged to his love. It was suppose to represent their commitment to each other, but now served no purpose. There was nothing left for him. Without his family, Eric had nothing to carry him on. Moving his brown eyes from picture to picture, he wanted to cry again, but the tears wouldn't come. They had long since dried up. Passing his eyes slowly from the picture of he and his former love, over scraps of paper, which included memorial pieces from his families funerals. His lifeless spheres came to the ring. Gazing down on it with not emotions left, Eric took a slow, deep breath. His left hand fell from his head and landed on the ring. Leaning gently to the right, Eric lifted the gun from the desk. Holding it vertically, his thumb rested on the hammer. Slowly, the digit pulled the hammer back. Each click echoing in his ear and filling the empty room. He placed the barrel to his head with a heavy bend of his wrist. The fingers of his left hand curled around the ring. Slowly his brown eyes moved upwards, starring straight ahead. Gripping the ring tightly in his hand, Eric pulled the trigger.
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