Nothing

He put the gun in his mouth for the thirtieth time tonight. “Funny how the metallic taste becomes kinda cute after a while.” he thought with the barrel of the shiny Desert Eagle Mark II in his mouth. He took the gun out and spat out the taste to the floor…for the thirtieth time.

He looked around in the barren, ugly room. The sick yellow wallpapers, a half brown ceiling and the constant leaking. He thought and realized that the water leaking down from the upper floor was the only constant he had during the last damned year.
He moved around a lot, from town to town, sometimes found a non-descript job, tried to blend in for a while. But night shifts were hard to keep…and he lived only the nights. “One can either tend the bars or can tend to himself, but never both in the same time.” he told himself many times before running away from a job. Then bosses would ask questions and so would the cops. A man living in a squalid room with boarded windows was a rarity nowadays. One that would raise eyebrows. And noone did really notice the bloodstains under the dead old carpet. What if someone did?
“Bloody hell…” he thought. He had no idea why he was cursed, had no idea why he felt the wanderlust whenever he tried to settle down,to build up a semi-normal life. He had the urge to escape from some unknown from some point of his life. He didn’t know or remember much of his life either but that did not make a difference now. In the dull embrace of his life, his soul begged for freedom.
“Who the heck am i fuckin’? I am bored!” he shouted. Not a new revelation about himself or his life, but a revelation that he reminded to himself now and then.
He looked up to the ceiling. Maybe some portion of God was here in the room with him. “He’d know…if i were god i would know at least!” he said loudly, his fist raised up, in an act of defiance and rebellion. Then the fist fell down easily, in tiredness. He started coughing, spitting blood and saliva randomly upon him and upon the emptiness that was supposed to be his home.
“Would a gun kill me?” he asked putting the eagle into his mouth again…he started squeezing the trigger, slowly, painfully almost. His eyes looked at the ceiling, where God All Mighty would be. He was watching him, pitiful, trying to end his miserable existence in a foolish and childish attempts. God would laugh, and probably Devil would die laughing hysterically too. He closed his eyes, shutting the eyelids…
“You owe me answers you…GOD! Why am i what i am? Why me? why ME?!” he thought and screamed in his mind.
He pulled the trigger fast. He dropped sideways, his head hitting the floor hard. It even bounced a few times. The gun was in his hand still, his device of salvation. Blood and brains leaked down on the floor, from the back of his head. A smell of smoke, from the barrel of the eagle and from the back of his head. Charred meat and the sound of the leaking water…

“Welcome.” he heard…he died but where was Uriel? Where were the Gates of Heaven, the fireworks and all?
Well at least the gun killed him…didn’t it?

++++++Random sucky writing it is and yes it sucks. I just sat down and felt like writing and this is it. No context no names no background not even a story, Just excrement from my mind. Sucky aint it?