Feeling the soft press of the enter key didn't come as a new sensation to Peter. Nor the message confirming his email was sent or the ladder of ninety two still remaining in his inbox. His eyes needing a break, he peered over his desk and noticed a great bear; its gaze firmly fixed on Peter's eyes. Then he heard the words: “You - are dying”. Though no movement came from the bear's jaw. Ignoring the words, he moved to read the day's stock reports. Again the words: “You are - dying” and the bear, now so close, he could feel its breath upon his neck.
As he strained to look past the bear's head he caught - a reflection of himself - in the window. He got up guardedly and started to run. Past the King holding court in his gilded office. Past the bloated Lords on the floor below. Past the Peasants eating grass on the ground floor. Out the orbiting door, ripping off his shirt, feeling his chest hair stand erect in the winter air. And standing next to him once more, the bear, looking into his eyes. Finally turning its back, walking off- into the masses.
By ZeLee
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