A dream of Victory

- By Froberg

Did he really think everything would work out fine?

In most religions, people end up getting what they deserve one way or another. It doesn't matter if the person ends up being reincarnated as a shoelace, or ends up burning in hell. Sooner or later, the person will get what he or she deserves. He smirked. If a broken car would be his only punishment, he would consider himself lucky. He got out of the car, and started walking. He noticed that he had spilled some oil on his pants, but what the heck. It would only make it easier for him to convince people that his car was broken.

A peeping sound made him look up, and he saw something fly by. It might've been a bat, or maybe some sort of bird. Not that it mattered much, anyway. At a distance, he eyed a house, and he started walking a little faster. Not that he was in a hurry or anything, but what the heck.

Soon, he reached the house and he knocked on the door. However, as if intending to underline the words 'bad luck', nobody answered. For a minute he thought about turning around, but clearly the lights were on inside the house. Shrugging, he decided that nobody had heard him. "Anybody home?" he yelled, as he entered the house. "My car broke down, and I need to borrow your phone!"

However, the scenery that welcomed him wasn't anything like his expectations. The bodies of a family were nicely welcoming him, with stiff eyes, and pools of blood on the floor. Next to him, a boy was crying.

"Why?" asked the boy, and the man sat down next to him

"Listen, kid, I don't know what has happened here," he said. "Now, do you have a phone or something to call the police?"

The boy nodded, but all of the sudden, the man noticed that there was no boy. The boy was covered in blood, and he was sitting on the carcasses of the family. Noticing the boy's face, he threw up. A mixture of blood and tears covered it, making it seem pink. Sickening. Pink was sickening. Upstairs, he heard a sound, and he went up to see what it was. Yes, this was probably the worst thing he could do at the time, but what the heck. Anything to get away from the pink boy.

However, when he arrived upstairs, all he saw was a small boy. He couldn't be more than three years old, and he was playing with a little piece of toy. It seemed like a pony. His t-shirt was green and as dirty as a t-shirt should be. On the side of it, the man noticed a picture of some sort of monster. It seemed like that 'big foot' from the cartoons; a big-muscled monkey with red fur.

Around him, he could hear voices, but he had no idea of their origins.

"Why did you buy him a pony, bitch?" an angry, male voice yelled. "Do you want our son to be a fag, or what?"

The man tried to move towards the boy, but before he could do so, two persons entered the room. A man and a woman both somewhere near the age of forty. They were heavily arguing, and before long, the man was beating up the woman, screaming words that Christians would burn in hell for even thinking.

Then he noticed the boy again. Instead of playing with his pony, the boy was lying in his bed, crying. Then, all of the sudden, a gunshot was heard, and the bed changed into the woman, and the woman changed into a gravestone. On top of it, the pony was placed, and the boy was standing next to it. "I'm sorry, mom…" he mumbled. "I shouldn't have accepted the pony… Dad says it's all my fault."

The man heard another sound from the floor above him, and he went to check it out. Up here, he saw two teenagers, a boy and a girl, both smoking what appeared to be some sort of joint. Upon further looking, it became clear to him that it was really marijuana. Not surprising, really. This was what young people did. Ecstasy was for people who had passed the age of seventeen.

"The school is threatening to throw me out, you know," said the boy, and took a wheeze.

The girl took the homemade cigarette. "Don't worry, John," she mumbled, obviously stoned. "They won't do that, and even if they do, then you can make that… make that invention you've been talking about. The lime-machine."

The boy smiled. "Time-machine, babe. I have no need for limes."

The girl started laughing, and the man noticed how small her pupils seemed.

"Don't do it, boy…" the man mumbled, although nobody heard him. "Don't drop out. For the love of god, don't do it."

Then, without notice, the girl kissed the boy, in a way so passionate that half of America's Catholics would faint, and the other half raise a cross. However, the man just stood there, his mouth wide open, trying to understand what was happening. This couldn't be… No, it couldn't. He had left it in the car, hadn't he?

"Mmmh, that's right, John," the girl moaned. Slowly, she started pulling his jersey off, and under it, the man saw a green shirt with the same picture he'd seen before – a creature covered in red fur. Then, all of the sudden, he heard yet another sound from the floor above. Something was wrong. From the outside, the house had seemed so small. How could it have this many floors?

He went up the stairs, and found himself outside. However, he couldn't see the house anywhere near him. The only thing he could see was a boy working at a construction site in the middle of some large city.

"Hey, go and fetch some more cement," ordered an old man, and the boy started walking towards some piles of sand. Then, all of the sudden, he stopped, and starred directly at something. A girl came towards him. She was dressed in clothing that a grand couldn't buy you, and she had a face that most heterosexuals - and probably a fair amount of the queers - would give their life for kissing.

"What are you doing here?" asked the boy. Somehow he didn't seem the slightest bit impressed by her looks.

The girl gave him the good old I'm-better-than-you-smile, and yawned. "I just thought I'd come and see you…" she paused, and her smile got a bit bigger. "…Work," she finished.

The boy gave her a quick, disgusted glare, and started loading sand onto a barrow. "You know we're not together anymore, so why do you keep coming?" he asked and took off his helmet. Under it, the man noticed a green bandana with a picture of the red-furred creature.

"Because I won, don't you get it?"

The boy didn't take his eyes of the sand. "Listen, you won nothing, okay? There was no bet."

"I think you loved me."

"Yeah, maybe, but who the hell cares?"

She laughed. "Oh, everybody cares, and most important: You care."

"Just shut up, already!" he shot back, hoping for her to disappear. "When my machine is finished…"

"It won't be," she interrupted. "That machine of yours is just a dream."

He didn't reply.

She laughed lightly, and started walking away. Then, after a bit of walking, she turned around. "You know, you're nothing. Just realize it, that machine of yours will never work," she said, and started walking again. "Hey, where did my car go?"

He smiled. "I turned time back ten minutes. Your car hasn't arrived yet."

She gasped, and he smiled. "You parked over there," he said, and pointed at a rather expensive-looking car.. "But for a second there, you believed me, right?"

The man suddenly saw a staircase standing in the middle of nothing and to make matters even more puzzling: He heard sounds coming from the top of it. He started walking up the steps, and he finally reached the top.

When he reached the top, he found himself in an office. At a finely carved desk, he saw a man wearing an old, worn coat trying to persuade another man into something.

"So, you want me to sponsor your… thing," the man behind the desk said doubtfully.

The man with the old coat seemed desperate. He was gesturing without really paying intentions to it, and he looked unsure. "No, it's a time-machine! You see, as Einstein stated, when objects are lifted up to a certain height, and if they're moved with a certain speed, then you can…"

"You have no education?"

"No, but that's not my point! Listen, it have taken me nearly thirty years, but I've figured it out You see, if the object that are moving, are being pushed by something heavier, then it is sure to loose a second per mile! If I can just get the money, I would be able to find a method that would allow me to make it more efficient!" the man in the coat looked as if he was close to panicking.

"No. Listen, you have no education, your theories are taken out of a science fiction movie, and to be honest, you seem rather…" the man paused, trying to choose his words carefully. "...Nuts," he finished, failing his choice of words.

"You have to give me the money!" the man said. "Otherwise, I won't be able to convince her that I won!"

"Get out of my office."

The man in the white coat nodded, and got out, cursing at himself for having said that. On his way, he left green footsteps with pictures of monkeys with red fur and giant mouths.

"Now," the man behind the desk said. "Isn't it time for you to get moving? There's a staircase right there," he said, and pointed it out. Hesitating, the man followed his advice.

What he saw on the next floor was not only utterly scarring it also seemed quite odd. A body that reminded him of a baked tomato lay covered in blood on the floor. The only moving part of it was an arm holding a knife. Slowly but surely, this disfigured carcass was sticking the knife into its own body. Gross, really. He had no idea how long he starred at this strange sight, but before long, he was throwing up. However, something got stuck in his throat, and he had to cough even harder to get it up. Finally, something bloody got out, and he was able to stand up again.

The carcass was gone.

Instead, some creature covered in red fur, and with giant, fiery eyes was standing there. It didn't say the slightest, but the man could feel it starring. It almost felt as if his skin was burning. The fact that it was a head higher than him didn't make it any less intimidating either. "Who are you?" he asked, afraid what would happen now that he'd broken the creature did say anything, yet it opened his mouth. Inside, the man saw millions of miniature people, trying to get out of flames that surrounded them. In the middle of them all stood a man that didn't seem to mind the flames. Yes, he seemed in pain, yet he made no attempt as to avoid the flames, and while the other people had been grossly burned, this man seemed fine except from some coffee-stains on his pants. For a moment, he thought he saw him smile, and he could most hear him say something along the lines of 'I'm innocent.' Then, the creature with the giant eyes closed its mouth, and continued staring at him. It seemed perfectly at ease, while he felt like on the verge of panicking. It just stood there, letting its froglike eyes look right at him.

If it would just move! At least say something!

He opened his mouth once more, and spoke quietly this time. "Who was that man? That man who was sticking a knife into himself?"

The creature opened its mouth once again, and this time it screamed. It was a high-pitched scream, and it seemed louder than anything he'd heard before. Slowly, but surely, he felt something entering him. Something seemed to enter his ears, nose and mouth, and he was unable to do anything about it.

He woke up outside the house.

Smiling, he realized that he had no reason to flee. Although she was dead, he'd been victorious. She'd promised what she'd promised, and the brat should've kept that promise. "Daddy, please don't hurt mommy," she'd said, and then she'd promised him to be good, if he would only leave her mother alone.

Now, five years later, he'd caught her kissing some boy. She'd deserved her punishment. It was only fitting that he, her father, was the one who killed her. After all, he had been the one who made her, and after her mother's dead, he'd been the one who'd raised her. Her life had been for him to use as he'd pleased. His smile got wider, as he entered the house, and killed the family. It had to be done before he arrived.

As he got out to the car, he noticed something. Little pictures of the giant-eyed creature were appearing all over his body, and slowly all his clothes were turning green. He smiled, and started the engine. He had no reason to fear such things. Why? Because he was victorious, and the winner takes all except for the fear.

The man drove off, leaving the site.

He'd won. In the back of the car, there was a machine that had the power to let him go back in time. He remembered how she'd seemed to not care when it had been finished. She'd still claimed that she was victorious. She'd seemed perfectly indifferent. He had no reasons to worry, and no reasons to fear. Victory was a funny thing and once one had it, there was no reason to fear loosing. Nor did he have any reason to fear the fact that the car, the road and everything else had been painted green, and nor did he find it odd that everything was covered with pictures of the creature with the red fur.

Because, after all: He'd won.