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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A true, action-packed, short story that will teach you (or remind you if you already know) how untrustworthy people are.

Submitted: July 30, 2016

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Submitted: July 30, 2016



I stay in a hostel located in a very big and notorious city. This is my freshman year in a prestigious University called Witwatersrand (simply Wits) in South Africa. This evening I came back from school and decided to cook, not only because I was hungry, but because I was in a very good mood. While I was still in the kitchen, my roommate also came back from school. We greeted each other as usual, and had a little chat about our friend, and then he went back to our dorm room. Few minutes later, I went back to our room to fetch something I was going to cook. The room was locked. This wasn’t the first time that he had locked me out-side and left. My good mood suddenly switched to a bad one, and my frustration-level was on a hundred percent since he wasn’t answering his cellphone when I rang him. So, I went out to get some fresh air hoping that I was going to feel better and avoid doing stupid things like rearranging his face when we meet again. It didn’t work. I met a friend of mine whilst chilling outside the hostel, he seemed tired so I was curious and asked what had happened. He told me that there is a protest down the road and he was part of it. Curiously, I went on to see for myself since I had nothing else to do. On my way, I met two guys whom were watching protestors from a distance, and since I also wanted to improve my conversation skills I thought conversing with these guys would be a good practice. So I went for it, “why not?” I asked myself. I greeted them, keeping eye contact and giving them equal attention. One had remarkable mustache, a square-big face, small-black eyes, light in complexion, and a bold voice. He was dressed like a gentleman, and this made me comfortable. The other was very dark, and since it was getting late, I couldn’t make-out his facial features except for his tiny-thin face which he tried to hide by his silk sweater. He didn’t speak much but his voice was moderate — not bold whatsoever. They were both in their early twenties and same height as me — 5’6” — so I got even more comfortable. I’m nineteen, and nineteen is as good as twenty. They greeted me back, and we suddenly had a conversation about the protest going-on. The square-faced guy started making hand gestures and pointing as he was speaking. Since I’m a curious person, I wanted to see what he was pointing at, and this made me not to realize that the dark guy was sneaking up on me. He grabbed my phone which I had put in my back pocket and ran away. These were nice guys — so they seemed to me — therefore, I thought it was a prank. He was about 10-15 feet away from me when I noticed that this was serious. I’m a sprinter, hence I chose to use that as an advantage and within a few seconds I had caught up with him. As we were sprinting, I kicked his foot to try and trip him but he had a remarkable balance. I grabbed him by his silk sweater and, somehow, managed to stop him, deliver a few punches, and rip his sweater off his body. Within a few seconds of rumbling, his friend caught up with us as well and I was outnumbered. I cried for help but there was nobody else on the street except for a security guard nearby us, and those protestors far away from where we were. The security came for rescue, but as soon as the square-faced guy pulled out a long blade he ran away. Square-face didn’t stab me, though. Instead, he pulled out a bottle of pepperspray while I was still trying to rearrange the dark guy’s face. He sprayed right in my eyes, and it was the end of my vision (temporarily, of course). I was still grabbing the dark guy and shouting for help even without my vision. The security didn’t avail himself for rescue, though, so I let go and plonked myself on the concrete ground. Pepperspray isn’t no child’s play. They left the blade nearby me to make it seem like I was the one trying to mug them. I soon started to hear voices nearby me. The security had returned with his friend this time, and there were also a group of students from school, I assume. One of the guards picked up the blade, stupid guy destroyed all the evidence I had. They bothered me with questions and I got annoyed because I was in deep pain. So, I pissed them off. Without hesitation, they all left me except for the guards. “Why didn’t anyone of you people help me?” I asked, still without my vision. “I didn’t know if you were trying to rob them, or the other way round” replied the guard who ran away. I raised my voice above the sound of vehicles passing by, “I was the one shouting for help!” and I heard a small giggle before he said “how was I supposed to know you were bluffing? We found a knife beside you, anyway”.

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