I close my eyes, signaling a driftage through time and space. In darkness the only thing I can see is a small white house in the untouched countryside, it proudly stood out in the middle of the endless green.

  Its wooden picket fence with a fresh coat of white paint, its muddy small glass windows, the number on the door, the scratches on the door handle; I can see each and every detail, no matter how small and minute.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  It's my haven, my reality, and my work.

  I open my eyes and pick up my rifle: it's time to wake up to a nightmare.