Falling for the dead
The television is switched on with a woman on the weather channel showing the week's forecast.
"Good evening, the weather is just that little bit windy out tonight so grab you're coats and slight showers over the southern parts…"
The channel is immediately switched over to cartoons.
"I hate the weather channel, don't you?" a man says to his dog while lying about on his couch. The dog barks as if he is agreeing with him. "Of course you do" he says in a lovey dovey voice and rubs the dog's tummy with his foot that hanged out over the arm of the chair. Suddenly the phone starts to ring, but he doesn't go to pick it up. There's then a beep afterwards which obviously meant the machine got it. "Dylan honey it's your mother…"
"…Now look I know your home so pick up. Pick up! Fine you be stubborn, I just wanted to say that I've got you another date for tomorrow night."
"God not another one" he moaned.
"Yes another one."
He looks towards the machine looking a little confused.
"It's not creepy to know your own son" she replied scaring him even more. He suddenly picks up the phone, before taking it off the speaker he lets out a meaningless sigh.
"Mum you need to stop doing that, it's creepier than uncle bob when he stares."
"I had to get you to answer somehow."
"Ok Mum I'm not going on another one of your dates, I can get a girl on my own."
"Sure it's like that now just you wait until you're sixty like me."
"Mum you're not sixty."
"I will one day and so will you."
"Yeah look mom I gotta go."
"Why?" she asks in a high pitched annoying tone.
"Because I'm sick of hearing you complain."
"I'm not complaining I just want to know why you don't want to talk to your mother" she argued.
"I gotta go."
"I…" he suddenly hung up on her before she could get another word in.
"She's always trying to set me up with someone. Let me tell you, you are so lucky that you haven't got a mother" he said to the dog again. He sighed and switched off the TV with the remote. He stood up and stretched.
"Bedtime, some of us have to get up early for work" he mentioned and made his way to his bed and collapsed.
Halfway through the night, about 2 O'clock in the morning, he heard scuffling coming from his living room. He got up and slowly looked out his bedroom door. He could see three shadowy figures. He suddenly grabbed his umbrella that leaned on the wall beside the door and crept out trying to avoid being seen and heard.
"Hey!" he yelled as he held the umbrella high up in the air. They immediately dropped the black bags they were clutching and started to run towards the open window.
"Hey get back here!" he called behind them, moving closer to the window. Suddenly one of the shadowy figures took something out of his pocket. It was too dark for Dylan to see, but it was too late. The shadowy figure ran, but Dylan didn't follow. He crashed down to the floor and looked down at his chest in pain. He had been shot and was bleeding heavily. He covered the blood with his hand and in the moonlight it looked like someone had painted it on his hand. He bled out on the carpet where the dog was barking like mad next to him. He slowly crawled on the floor to reach for the phone. He grabbed the receiver and dialed the number to the police. The phone started to ring on the other end.
"This is the police, please state you're emergency" the police officer on the line said. Dylan tried to say something, but he started to mumble. All he could say clearly was his name and just like that he was dead, but only in body.