Break-in turned to war

Date: 11/18/2018

I was in my childhood home, alone, at night. It’s a small, prefabricated modular home surrounded by thick forest in rural America. The house stands at the end of a long dirt road, with a long driveway that winds down a hill through trees and brush. At night, there is no glow of city lights, no view of a street or other civilization. Only pitch darkness and cicadas. I was hearing about a GOP Republican conspiracy: that a group of angry republicans were targeting the homes of liberals. They somehow knew how to easily unlock windows. Just then, I looked into the living room to see a man in a red MAGA cap crawling through a window. I quickly grabbed my cellphone and started recording him. At this, he backed out quickly. “What! You’re gonna record me!?” He yelled angrily to his two friends in a thick southern accent. I kept recording, getting closer to the window to rub it in his face. He got so angry he punched the window. Then, he started picking things up and throwing them at me. Eventually they retreated down the dark driveway. I got it all on camera. I began shutting and locking the windows when I saw a large pickup truck with giant tires pull down the driveway. They had returned with their buddies. I quickly scrambled to lock windows and doors, but some of them wouldn’t lock. Warping caused the latch to not line up properly. After slamming it down a few times it finally latched shut. I turned out the lights and looked through the front door peep hole. Nobody was there yet but I could hear them hooting and hollering wildly from the driveway. I moved quietly and hunched through the house to stay under the radar. I grabbed a wooden Louisville Slugger from my childhood bedroom – it’s not the best weapon but it will do. Then I saw a hatchet by the wood stove. “If things escalate...” I thought to myself. I waited anxiously by the door as they came closer and closer. BOOM! The door busted open. I lunged forward swinging the bat, which connected hard with a man, sending him to the ground. That’s when I saw they had machine guns. Upon seeing their friend on the floor they moved forward, cocking their weapons. “This has escalated,” I thought. In a swift movement, I turned to the stove and grabbed the hatchet. The man I hit stumbled at me and I used all my force to chop at him with the blade. I grabbed his gun, and opened fire on the others who were aiming right for me. After a deadly exchange of bullets, I moved out of the house, toward the dark driveway. The landscape changed. I found myself sneaking through a large city park. Occasionally I had to open fire to defend myself from groups of men with guns. As I continued, more people joined with me. We moved in unison through the park, past benches, gardens, trees. We were a full-on militia, communicating silently through gestures and nods. As others proceeded, I used my gun’s scope to snipe a few men ahead. I started to notice that when I shot people, they would be splattered with paint and would walk away. This wasn’t real, it was a paintball match. An exercise. At one point we came across some unsuspecting enemies who were casually resting on a bench. I jumped out of hiding and shot them all. Others from my team came out of hiding and we all moved forward into a narrow passage. We passed a bathroom where there was a woman from our team covered in some kind of fluid. She was hunched over and panting. In front of her were two men on the floor. “She crawled through a vent to get to these guys,” a man said. “Hey,” someone tapped me, “we could hear your shots from far away. Give us a heads up before you start next time so we’re prepared.” I realized I needed a quieter mode of attack. We approached an auditorium where the enemies were watching some performance. I snuck up behind two men who were seated in the back row, covered their mouths and drove a fake knife into their heads. They each got up and left, accepting they were out of the game. “That was a little brutal...” I thought, sort of disappointed in myself for using such a distasteful mode of attack... but I felt the pressure to move on. I moved to the next aisle. A kid and her grandma sat watching the performance and chatting. I froze. “I can’t do this,” I thought, “I can’t...” I turned and left them. Moving to the back of the auditorium I consulted a higher ranking officer about it. Everyone looked concerned. Someone came over, stuck a barcode on me and scanned it. I woke up.