Saint

Jimmy

There He was again, sitting in front of a wooden piano, His back bent like

a hook and the tip of his nose almost touching His hands that were smoothly

moving on shiny black and white keys, letting the piano sob Moonlight

sonata. His skin is pale and His eyes are closed. His black and semi-long

hair is uncombed and His mouth is slightly open. From time to time you can

hear Him let out a breath through His open lips. A husky breath that sounds

like a short laugh or a sad cry. He wore an old dusty worn-out tuxedo with

collars open without a tie.

I was ready for the night. Dressed up in a black trousers and an ordinary

white shirt with loose collar, and old black leather shoes with round toe

line mathcing the tight fitting black leather coat draping down to my

knees.I had a Philip Morris hanging down from the right corner of my lips

and my hands chilling in black leather gloves, left one in my coat poket

and right one holding my shot-gun the Saint. Standing in the middle of

room lighted with blueish moonlight, I closed my eyes and took a deep

breath to fall into tonight's dream land. When I opened my eyes again I

found myself on a back street of some night club. Rain was pouring down and

all my hairs and the street were wet. A slim girl was being raped in a

doggie-style about five meters away from me by three guys. It was so dark

that none of them noticed me until I was standing right behind the guy who

was humping the girl from the behind. The other two guys pushing her

against the wall saw me first and starred at the Saint with their breath

already dead. Then the humping guy turned his head and saw me as I pulled

up the Saint with right hand, my left hand still in my coat poket. As I saw

him dropping into the darkness in his eyes I stuck the Saint in his wide

open mouth and pulled the trigger. They all began to scream then but it

didn't last long. I shot one on the left on his chest and one on the right

on his stomach,leaving the girl alive. She seemed to be terrified but she

was trying hard to get some words of thanking out as she must have thought

that I was some kind of a saviour. I had been hearing the Moonlight sonata

all the time and now the song was moving towards its endless end. I then

studied the girl carefully. Long brown hair and dark eyes, milky colour

skin and pointed nose, high cheekbones, very slim body. She couldn't be

older than fifteen or sixteen years old. While she was shivering from cold

or fear or the joy of the moment, I starred into her eyes. I saw herself

falling into the dark pupils of her eyes and I brought the Saint up again,

smashed it in her little mouth, and boom, there she went. Shortly after I

closed my eyes and leaned my head back to feel the raindrops showering on

my face. I heard the endless ending of the Moonlight sonata, the last note

fading away into the night.

I met Him when I was four years old. I woke up in the middle of night and

found Him standing by the end of bed, next to my feet. He clapsed His hands

in front of Him, His right hand on top of the left hand, His face

expressionless. He wore that old tuxedo since the first time I saw Him and

I've never seen Him in any other outfit. He just stood there and starred at

me, looking directly into my eyes. I felt a chill running down my back but

I wasn't scared. It was just some sort of strange feeling in guts, head and

the heart. But after all it was always that dark curtain closing down in my

heart. Then I always felt myself incredibly heavy. However, He stood there

only for few seconds, and before I even tried to say something, He slowly

turned around and walked towards my bedroom door, opened it with His right

hand, walked out of the room,and closed the door.

The next time I saw Him was when I was ten. I was sitting on top of this

boy in my class, keep on hitting him with my tightly clenched fist on his

already bloody face. Suddenly I couldn't hear the cheering voice of my

classmates circling us, so when I looked up, I saw him there again,

standing there among the still screaming and cheering kids whose voice I

could no longer hear, His hands clapsed in front of Him, His right hand on

top of the left, and His face expressionless. When our eyes met He turned

around and walked away, and I heard the bursting cheer of my classmates

again, so I went on, my eyes fixed upon the boy's eyes below me, raising my

right fist up and throwing it down, each time landing my second knuckle

precisely on the spot between this boy's nose and mouth.

I lost my parents when I was young but I can't remember when exactly. Maybe

when I was thirteen but maybe when I was sixteen. All I remember is me

holding this shot-gun in my right hand with her barrel still hot while

starring at my headless parents laying flat on stomach in front of me. The

smell of their blood warmed my heart and I was content for a minute. Then

He walked into the livingroom where my parents lay and stood by the feet of

my parents. He arranged their body so that they lay facing eachother -but

without the heads-. He then stood up and looked into my eyes. His hands

clapsed in front of Him, His right hand on top of the left, and His face

expressionless, or maybe a hint of little grim. After he walked out of our

living room I decied to call this shot-gun the Saint. I think the blood

from my parents left stain on our livingroom carpet. Mom used to love

cleaning carpets.

One day I found myself walking down on one of the streets in this city.

Suddenly there was this girl standing among the crowd looking at me in the

eyes. We were standing about ten metre away from eachother and people were

passing by between this space, but I could swear that she was looking into

my eyes. A shortish girl with about age of thirteen she was. Not slim but

not fat, blond hair that almost touched her shoulders, pointed nose and

small but yet broad shoulders. I then turned my head to exact opposite

direction and saw Him standing there looking into my eyes. When I turned my

head again to see her again she wasn't there anymore, so I turned my head

again to see Him. He wasn't there either. I then turned my head again to

where this girl was and found her there standing, still starring at me. I

then walked up to her and stood in front of her. We stood there still for a

minute, looking into eachother's eyes like that. We, without exchanging a

single word, walked arm in arm to a cafe near by. We took a table by the

window, through which we could look out on the street we met. As we were

drinking a cup of cofee each there began a music. A music that I could

recognise even before its first note is played. It was the Moonlight Sonata

from Beethoven, the first movement. I looked around the cafe to find Him

sitting in front of a piano standing against a wall, His back bent like a

hook and the tip of his nose almost touching His hands that were smoothly

moving on shiny black and white keys, letting the piano sob Moonlight

sonata. His skin is pale and His eyes are closed. His black and semi-long

hair is uncombed and His mouth is slightly open. From time to time you can

hear Him let out a breath through His open lips. A husky breath that sounds

like a short laugh or a sad cry. He wore an old dusty worn-out tuxedo with

collars open without a tie.I closed my eyes and let myself drop into the

depth of music. When I opened my eyes again I was sitting in a tube, with a

little boy sitting in front of me, starring at me. It was a boy with about

age of six. Short blond hair and lovely blue eyes and soft cheeks with baby

fat. His mom sitting at his side gave him the look saying that he shouldn't

stare at people like that and I just smiled at her. She seemed to feel a

bit more assured as I did so. The boy then smiled too and using his both

hands, stretched sides of his eyes to make chink eyes, my eyes. His mom

immediately made him stop as though if her child has offended me greatly. I

wasn't offended at all, so I smiled at her and her boy and reassured her

that nothing bothered me. The mom and the boy them smiled too, feeling

better. I then leaned forward to get my face a little closer to the boy,

and used my right index finger gesture him to get his face closer to me. I

touched my lips with my finger tip once and then touched my ear once. He

understood that I had something secret to tell him and got his ear closer

to my mouth. I then with a big smile on my face bit his left ear off, chew

it twice and spat it on his face. The boy began to cry and his mom began to

scream. I looked around to count how many people were in this part of tube,

twenty-six. I stood up and pulled two silvery semi-automatics out of my

trouser pockets. I walked around and shot everybody dead except for the boy

and his mom, giving two bullets to each. When I came back to my seat the

boy's mom was crying while hugging the boy tightly. I pulled out the Saint

from under my seat and put her barrel towards this boy's mom. She with

tears in her eyes looked at me and began to suck the Saint, moving her head

back and forth, actively using her tongue. I pushed her boy away from her

using my left hand and then as she was taking more of the Saint into her

mouth, I saw her falling into darkness of her eyes. I pulled the trigger. I

then pointed the Saint at this crying little boy and shot him eleven times.

The meeting with this girl on the street became a regular routine. We have

never spoken a single word to each other. We just met on the street we

first met,same time everyday. We then walked arm in arm to the cafe near

by, sat by the window, drank a cup of coffee each while listening to Him

playing the Moonlight Sonata. She always stood up and left as soon as the

song ended, I then always closed my eyes to listen to the last note of the

song that was still vibrating in my eyes. Whenever I opened my eyes up

again I was somewhere facing somebody, whom I shot with my Saint with no

exception.

One day I was walking down the same street to meet her again on time. I

could already see her from a block away. It was then that I saw two cops

approaching to her and eventually grapping her arms to drag her into their

car. People stood around her in circle and watched her struggle to free

herself from the cops. I walked faster and got to where the crowd was

standing. When I turned my head to the exact opposite direction I could see

Him standing, His hands clasped in front of him, His right hand on top of

the left, His face expressionless. I turned my head again and pushed my way

through the crowd to approach the two cops that were now trying to handcuff

my girl. I had the Saint in my hand and I knew what to do. I slightly

tipped the back of a cop's head with end of the Saint, and as he turned his

head I smashed the Saint into his mouth and blew his head off. As the other

cop was reaching for his revolver with right hand I shot his hands off,

first right then left. Then I reloaded the Saint and shot on his stomach,

then on his chest, I reloade the Saint again then I shot on his throat,

then on his mouth. As the crowd began to scream and run about I picked up

my girl from the ground and just as though nothing ever happened, we walked

into our cafe, sat by the window and drank a cup of coffee each as usual.

Only difference was that there was no music, no piano standing against a

wall. He wasn't there. As we almost finished our coffee I noticed that my

girl was looking out the window. I followed her gaze and saw seven police

cars and thirty-three cops standing about these cars, all of them pointing

their various types of guns at me. Then there began a music. A music that I

could recognise even before its first note is played. It was the Moonlight

Sonata from Beethoven, the first movement. I looked around the cafe to find

Him sitting in front of a piano standing against a wall, His back bent like

a hook and the tip of his nose almost touching His hands that were smoothly

moving on shiny black and white keys, letting the piano sob Moonlight

sonata. His skin is pale and His eyes are closed. His black and semi-long

hair is uncombed and His mouth is slightly open. From time to time you can

hear Him let out a breath through His open lips. A husky breath that sounds

like a short laugh or a sad cry. He wore an old dusty worn-out tuxedo with

collars open without a tie. I looked around the cafe and it was empty.

Nobody was there except me and my girl. I turned my head to look at my girl

and she was smiling.

I loved her.

I had the Saint in my hand and I brought it up, pointed it on her chest,

and as she closed her eyes and her face was filled with joy and she was

smiling with her lips closed tight then they slightly parted and she let

out a little breath and a giggle and I knew I loved her and I pulled the

trigger.

The cops outside then began to pour bullets on me. I saw the window break

and I saw the little flames and smokes coming out of their guns I turned my

head and saw Him moving into last bits of the Moonlight Sonata I pulled the

Saint up and began to shoot the cops from left to right I could feel the

bullets entering all over my body and my blood escaping through every holes

that those bullets made but I just kept on shooting the cops from left to

right one by one and as I shot the last cop down to the ground I heard the

endless ending of the Moonlight sonata, the last note fading away into the

darkness of my eyes.

I was on a field. A huge plain with some grass and some mud and some dirt

and some flowers. I then saw a white dove flying across sky, then suddely

falling down on the ground, half splashing as it hit the ground. I looked

at myself and I was dressed all in white. I looked up to sky again and saw

more white doves falling down. It was as though if a rain shower of doves

began to start. Soon there were endless number of doves, not just white but

also brown doves and grey doves pouring down from sky like rain pours down

on a summer's day. The doves then began to pile up all over the field like

fallen snow flakes do on a winter day. Soon I was standing in the middle of

field filled with dead doves covered in blood and there were still more

doves pouring down. I then burst into laughter and cry and began to dance

around the rain of doves, stepping on the doves under my feet and making

blood splash all over me. I then began to roll on the doves, still laughing

and crying.

I have sinned.