little guard post.

Chapter 1

I awake from that dream, rainwater still running circles inside my head. That metal ringtone saved me from that pathetic state I was in, but it would've been lying if I said that my eardrums came out unscathed. I let out a big yawn, swivelling my shoulders around to check if any trace of that dream's paralysis is still there. Click, clack, crack. My joints snapped from the circular motion, letting me know that it's still functioning as it should. It had been quite a while since the first time I was introduced to that strange room. The grey man was there, and so were those two potted plants. Difference is, the plants looked much more alive than now. They began rotting at approximately the seventh visit, one leaf and bud at a time. Even in the visit before last night's dream, they were already in that awful, awful state — especially the begonias. The man was in a lighter shade of grey back then. His eyes still had traces of white in them, it cradled a tender sentimentality that seemed to corrode each time I looked deep into them.

My lazy eye drifts in the blurry space around me. The layout of the dream room reminds me of my own security work area, except perhaps the presence of a window and the camellias. The walls are painted a muted beige. A computer monitor stands tall on the burgundy table, sitting dead-center in the room. Blossoms of begonias hang from bent stems in a translucent vase. Cups of coffee litter the table, still reeking of gasoline. Quaint but without taste. Practical but without personality. I gave the room a nickname, — "the little guard post".

I've become a beacon of safety for the town for at least three and a half years now. What was supposed to be a one-off summer job ended up spanning many summers ahead. I hole myself up in this guard post for at least five days per week. I usually take the weekday shifts, and if need be, I'd gladly take the weekends shifts as well. It's honest, thankless work - keeping the town civilians safe by having a watchful eye out for any suspicious behaviour or abnormalities that roam the shadows. With every click of my trusty mouse, the footage changes from one place to another. From the corners of Orchard Street, to the back alleys of the Farmer's Market... The monitor shows it all. As long as I'll stay here in the post and keep watch of everything, nothing bad is going to happen. We're all safe.

A plastic-coated brick was still playing the metal ringtone from earlier. It was blaring piercing guitar solos on and on, my ears begged me to do something about it. My mind - hazy as ever, didn't pick up the fact that this screaming brick is my phone. When everything clicked, my hand shot out to the phone and picked up the call.

"...You've reached Breathen Security Center. This is Moth Braunn speaking."

"Moth! Buddy, you sound awfully groggy... Wait, were you sleeping on the job again?"

A bright, cheery yet hoarse voice greets me from the other end. It bleeds through the speakers like yellow liquid is about to ooze out of it. It was a good friend of mine, Yttero Bellfast.

"Mhm. Didn't get a lick of sleep last night."

"Hmm... Been havin' those insomniac spells again, huh?"

For a second, the phone speakers picked up on the lowered tone of his voice. There was a twinge of worry to be found in his words. However, before I could even muster a reply - he butts in.

"But that's beside the point. Dude! It's already 3:47pm, and you're still not here yet! Isn't it your lunch break now? 13 more minutes and the discount hour ends."

"...For fuck's sake. I'll rush on over, then."

"You better! I already cooked your favourite, just come on over and get it. The cheese won't eat itself, you know!"