Tuesday, May 11, 2010


Alen knew it was a short amount of time before his emotions won out and he broke protocol. His plans were in place, and he knew it was just a matter of playing the waiting game in order to complete them to painstaking perfection.

He was just so tired of those Fuckers who kept trying his patience. The little voice in his head kept asking, why Alen, why wait; you shouldn’t have to deal with them anymore; you have everything you need, just be done with it. But he knew that if he wanted to get all of them, he just had to wait.

Just to be sure he had enough supplies he ordered one more set of everything he needed and once it came spent his a very crucial week constructing the final model. Looking over everything he knew his collection was complete. They littered the floor of his apartment and he couldn’t help but think of how perfect his apartment had been. He had chosen Apartment #4E over the Studio on the west side because of its obvious seclusion.

Finally time was upon him and he spent preparing everything to the smallest detail for what was to come at the end of the week. Saturday morning, everything was in place and Alen stood back and admired his handiwork. They would never know what hit them. As the senior activities chairman for the University, he had setup a party that was to be the hit of a lifetime.

Dressing up for the occasion in his suit he greeted each student as they came through the door and they each sauntered past with a confused look on their face, asking each other what he meant when he said, “I hope you’ve enjoyed this year and that your memories of the past will forever stick with you even to the end.”

With a martini in one hand Alen waited for the correct time. He had been waiting for this moment for over six months now. They would pay; they would pay for his humiliation.

Fingering the button on the remote hidden in his pocket he counted the seconds. Standing up to the microphone the music abruptly ended.

Alen held his martini in the air waiting for the crowd to notice him then when he had everyone’s attention said, “I’d like to thank each of you for coming tonight. Little do you know, but each of you has made an impression on my life. With very special thanks to you, I hope you have enjoyed tonight since it is to be your last!” His pocketed hand pressed the button just as he took a sip of his martini making his toast complete.

That one second between the button being pressed and the bombs exploding, a feeling of perfection and accomplishment washed over Alen.

The first wave of explosions rocked Alen, but it was the second delayed set that had everyone in the room screaming in fear. Alen smiled as the roof cracked and came tumbling down on top of each of them. Their cries were silenced by the third wave of explosions that took out each wall and the floor beneath them killing everyone inside.

Each homemade bomb was set in a strategic location. Alen was surprised the day he walked into his CAD class to find that they were studying the architectural designs of the Mason D. Stringham Cultural Hall. It was the perfect place for the revenge he sought. He studied the plans intently and even made copies of them staying after class to do so.

Each major strong point on all three floors contained a bomb and Alen made sure that he had included enough bombs to bring down the entire building and also enough to make sure that no one walked away.

Authorities searched his apartment finding it surprisingly clean, which was the same when they searched all of the other student’s residences trying to find out who had secretly bombed one of the city’s most historical sights full of college students.

Three months later, a padded envelope arrived at the local police department and when opened contained a letter that told of how Alen sought revenge and how easy it had been for him to gain the necessary designs for making the bombs from the internet as well as purchasing the equipment from locals. It was signed, “Have a GREAT day…Alen” Also found within were the copies of architectural renderings from his CAD class, bomb designs from the internet, locations where he had purchased supplies and even pictures of the completed bombs in his living room; what finally stunned the detectives was that Alen had even gone so far as to photograph each bomb location within the Cultural Hall with bombs in place and each pictured contained a number that matched the locations marked on the Architectural plans.

“Study this information intently folks, it’s our job to find the threats within our society and stop them before they cause destruction such as this!” Lt. Sherman told his class of bomb squad officers in training, “Tomorrow we will be studying the Oklahoma City Bombing; you might want to bring your hard hats…” Lt. Sherman laughed at his own joke as he dismissed his class.

1 comment:

  1. Nice work, Nic. First, you tell an interesting story, and then bring it round to a topical concern. Because the ending sounds so real, it makes the story part more believable. Never know what's going through people's minds on big campuses (campi?), but you sure have provided food for thought.