Until the darkness comes.

It was early morning, just after sunrise. The man slowly awakened
from his heavy slumber, dragging himself away from the visions still
lingering in his subconscious mind. The alarm clock began to sound. The
man had no need of this device; he would no doubt awake every morning
at the same time without it. As he reached over to turn the alarm off,
the man envisioned himself smashing the bothersome contraption to bits.
This stray thought was quickly pushed aside. He would never do such a
thing. The man continued with his routine.
After a light breakfast, the man walked out to his front porch to
retrieve the morning newspaper. Upon opening the front door, he was
confronted by Mr. Tibbs, the neighbor's cat. He bent down to pet the
creature, as he was quite fond of the animal. He was very gentle with
the cat, as he held it and stroked it lovingly. He set the cat back
down and proceeded to retrieve his paper. At this he saw a vision in
his mind's eye of him reaching out and strangling the cat. He could see
his hands clasped tightly around Mr. Tibbs' neck, squeezing until the
animal became limp and lifeless.
Mr. Tibbs looked up at the man, and then ran back home across the
street. The man gathered up his newspaper and retreated back into his
house.
The man had now finished with the paper, after reading it in the usual
order: comics first, editorials, and then anything that caught his
interest. He never read the obituaries, too depressing. He also avoided
the crime reports, as he hated to read stories of violence. It was
Saturday, late morning now, as he prepared for his weekly walk around
the small neighborhood.
Before even reaching the end of the block, the man stopped to chat
with Mr. Addison, who lived in a large red brick house two houses away
from the man.
"Good Morning, Joe," said the man to Mr. Addison.
"Good Morning to you," he replied.
Mr. Addison was raking leaves, as he continued to talk to the man
about the weather and other things that people talk about. As Addison
droned on, the man envisioned himself taking Joe's rake, and breaking
it over his knee. He saw himself taking the splintered wooden shaft and
plunging it into Addison's throat. As Addison tried to get away, the
man knocked his legs out from under him with a solid swing of the
broken rake handle. Another swing broke Addison's arm as he reached
out, groping for anything to save himself with. As Mr. Addison lay
struggling to breathe, drowning in his own blood, the man stood over
him, telling Joe how much he really cared about the weather.
"Yes, I've heard that it's going to snow soon too," the man said in
reply to Addison's earlier question. He continued his walk, as Joe
proceeded to rake his leaves.
It was now later afternoon. As the man was finishing his lunch, he was
startled by the ringing of his doorbell. He got up, opened the door,
and was greeted by the sweet face of young Sally Campbell, adorned in
her Girl-Scout uniform and carrying the box of cookies he had ordered a
few weeks earlier. He invited the small girl to wait inside as he
retrieved his wallet. On his way back downstairs with Sally's money,
the man saw in his mind a vision of himself walking back downstairs
carrying a Louisville Slugger at his side. Before the girl could ask
what the baseball bat was for, He swung at Sally's midsection, crushing
two of her ribs. Sally stumbled backward as a second blow caught her in
the forehead, crushing her skull like a melon. The man tossed the bat
aside and walked to the dining room table, as Sally slumped to the
floor, a pool of blood forming around her broken body, her mouth and
eyes wide open as if in some inaudible hysterical scream. The man
stared at his ruined baseball bat, while eating one of Sally's
cookies.
"Thank you," Sally said as the man paid her and she walked back to her
mother's waiting car. He smiled and waved to Mrs. Campbell, as he
closed the door and went back inside.
The man continued with his normal routine throughout the rest of the
day. He ate a small dinner, and watched a little television. He at
first began to watch a new police drama series, which Mr. Addison had
told him about, but was soon forced to turn it off, because of the
distress that the violence caused him. At the first sight of blood the
man changed channels to find the gameshow that he usually watched in
the late afternoon.
It was late evening now; the sun had already set. The day had been an
average one; nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. The man
decided that the day had been a good one, though he might need to stop
watching television, in order to avoid the never ceasing unnecessary
violence, which now proliferated the airwaves. The man decided that it
was time for bed.
He prepared for his sleep in the usual manner. He brushed his teeth,
changed clothes, and read of few verses of his Bible. The man placed
his Bible on the lamp desk beside him after finishing the last chapter
of the book of Psalms. He then turned out the light and slipped under
the covers of his bed into the waiting arms of the rotting corpse of
his dead wife.