Warm Guns

The wooden drawer in my bedisde table came out with the sound of the trollies scraping along the frame. It was a quick sharp pull that made all the books and loose pennies slide forward with a jolt.
Under the books, I felt around in the darkness and dust until I found what I was looking for. I slid the barrel back as quietly as I could and settled the gun into the V of my right hand, all whilst my eyes were glued to the staircase in the corner of my room.
There was someone downstairs and I felt safer knowing I had my gun.

I wouldn't kill anyone, I knew that. Maybe a few warning shots and then if they started to come at me, or they were armed, I'd get him in the leg or something.
It was the middle of the night, so in my black boxers, old paint splatted t-shirt and my hair in a messy top knot, I padded down the stairs - gun out and up.
I wasn't expecting visitors.

My house is a nice house. I have a lot of books which are stacked up pretty high everywhere but aside from that it's tidy. It does however look strangely eeire with nothing but the street light coming in through the window on the landing.

As my feet crept along the carpet, I realised I had neglected my hoovering chores. Looking around the corner, gun first, I followed my bare feet across the corridor and listened at the door to the lounge. I could feel the breeze on my ankles at the crack of the door jam.
I edged the door open a little.
I felt a breeze across my face as I looked through the gap; the windows in the lounge were open.
Even thought he gun had slept unused for months now, it felt safe and warm in my hand, my palm slightly clammy against the hard grip.

Mentally, I counted down...

5

4

3

2

"Get down, I have a gun!" I shouted out into the darkness, the door swinging open. Silence.
I waited and heard nothing still. With my gun still up I flicked the lightswitch on with my elbow. The room flooded with llight and the blinds knocked against the open window.
My arms fell to my sides. I lef the window open when I was smoking in here this afternoon and must've forgotten to lock it closed again.
I did not have visitors.

The Silencing of my Lamb.

The baby screamed, and I was tired.
Screaming, screaming, screaming.
The highest pitch; the most blood curdling wail.
"I'm coming" I hissed into the darkness, knowing she wouldn't hear me nor understand.
Opening her bedroom door, the screams did not falter.
"Shh, now. Shhhh" My pleading whisper fell away into the darkness as I lifted the writhing screaming bundle to my chest and held her close.

"Shh now. Sleep. Shh my little lamb."

Screaming, screaming, screaming - I rocked her back and forwards, holding her closer and closer. I felt her gasp for breath in between screaming and still I held her closer. Her face so close to my chest. Tight.
Muffling, stifling and then nothing.
There was silence at last. Silence from the screaming.