Scenario, guys.

Okay, picture this for me. A movie is being made to encompass the lives of each and every person on this site in a majorly dramatized fashion.

What are you doing in the first moments of the first scene you appear in, and what song is playing in the background?

I'll start this off.



I'm sitting in my room, staring out the window at a late autumn afternoon, the soft sunlight that passes through trees outside casting slight shadows across my face. A coffee sits, steaming in a round black mug, within arm's reach on a table nearby. My guitar's propped up against my knees and I'm leaning slightly against it as I sit slightly forward, fingers making silent chords on the fretboard. Next to my coffee cup, my phone buzzes and lights up with my girl's face staring up from the screen. A half-smile plays on my lips.

I'm waiting Noir to answer the phone when I see two black SUVs screech to a halt on my front lawn. It's too late. I hang up and reach for my rifle. I have seconds to get ready. My Kevlar is on. My magazines are secure. My sights are zeroed. I pull back the bolt of my rifle and release it, seating a fresh lead and brass into the chamber. I'm ready.

The front door flies open. 3...2... The explosives I had set there the night before go off taking the front end of my house off as well as the hostile assault team. Four down. My ears are ringing. The outside is alive with automatic fire. They're riddling the remains of the house which are quickly going up in flames. I rush down into the basement and find the cellar door that leads outside.

As I force open the doors, I surprise two men covered in tactical equipment, preparing to breach the back door. They're trained. It's worse than I thought. They begin to raise their carbines, but I'm faster. The first man catches three rounds to the waist and two to the upper chest, destroying his pelvis, lungs, and subclavian arteries. He deflates, hitting his friend on the way down. As the second man's finger grazes the trigger of his gun, three rounds tear through his neck, disconnecting the brain stem. He falls on top of his gurgling partner like puppet with his strings cut.

I sprint for the tree line behind my house, reloading as I run. I have to warn the others. After i reach the tree line i feel a pain in my upper back. I think I've been shot. I hope my armor did it's job.

I'm running. I'm running down the country roads of south Jersey. I'm running through trees and grass and sandy driveways. It's early, there's still a mist hanging off of trees and roofs and resting on puddles. We left as soon as we got the call, but we were too late again.

My family was always too damn late.

So instead of staying there and suffocating I started running.

I'm still running. I'm almost there, actually.

When I was a kid there were these pine trees, and back when I used to explore the land around my grandma's house I used to go beneath the branches, they made like a cove, and I used to just breathe.

God, it was a beautiful place to just breathe, you know?

And the two pines were right on the edge of this pond. And as I reach there, now, I'm too tall to fit into the cove. Time is a bitch. But the mist is right and the water is still there like a mirror.

So I try to just breathe.