I pray to god no one ever reads these words. Yet I fear the end is coming.
Today, for the first time, my son took up arms.
I never should’ve left that Nerf gun lying on the floor. I never should’ve left it loaded. Should have, should have . . . there are so many things I should have done differently, so many choices I coudl’ve made, so many points at which fate could have turned down a different road.
I thought I’d have more time. More sunsets. More hours to pursue my dreams. I always told myself, Tomorrow.
But now tomorrow has come, and it is today.
My wife was the first casualty. When the dart struck her, I confess I laughed. I even taught my son how to aim.
Only two-and-a-half. Too young to be so skilled in the ways of war.
The dog went next. However long I live, I’ll never forget the sight of that blue foam tangled in his white fur. The pitiful whimper. The dreadful sigh.
And now, I hear him coming for me. Little footsteps toddling down the hall. The chuck-CHICK! of the slide cocking back. The Nerf N-Strike Elite series Strongarm Blaster: deadliest weapon that man ever made. Six cylinders. 13.22 ounces of polished plastic. One trigger.
Staring down its barrel, that orange eye unblinking, a man does not feel lucky.
He feels cold.
It is coming. It is coming. I am the architect of my own doom. Piece by piece I have assembled this guillotine, and now my head rests beneath the blade.
Like Oedipus, I shall be supplanted by my son, the spawn of my loins. If only I–
Luke Wildman 