Last Thoughts

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
An elderly man tries to save a younger's life but seems to have failed.

Submitted: August 06, 2016

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Submitted: August 06, 2016

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I am a sheep to my shepherd, the icy wind. Cornered in an ally I sit hunched, slumped, back to the equally as cold wall, a  body lying next to me, also cold. The walls of the allyway seem like they are closing in, ready to devour me like a starved beast living in the dark. I shouldn’t have tried. Was it my place to do so? My gut didn’t think so, but apparently my limbs did. I blend in with the black plastic garbage bags discarded in the corner.

 

I’m watching faces illuminated by the flow of cars go by, wave after wave, not a single face having the time to look down the ally, through the blinding darkness to rest on me. It’s a desperate cry for help, sending my thoughts out to these people, hoping one of them would turn their head. My voice is unable to reach them, my energy has been sapped. All they would see is an old man resting on a pile of black bags. What their judgemental eyes would fail to see is the small fragile body of a young girl hidden by the black shadows and bags. Hypocrites. Claiming the value of life is equal for everyone when they’d run to see if the youngin was okay, but their eyes not even looking twice at a man just as frail. This pain of hate is not the only pain im feeling. It’s my fault  anyway. Why did I even try? All that the choice left me with as a reward was a red soaked t-shirt.

After all these years I’ve never know such pain, not just physical but also pain directed at those who were walking past, not stopping their lives to tend to me, just carrying on. 

The night was starting to darken, maybe its my vision, maybe my thoughts; the fact I will never see my wife, daughter or grandkids again. Looking back I wasn’t the picture of a good husband let alone father. Many things I could have done better, but the way things are looking ill never be able to right these wrongs. Hopefully this will make up for something. Sliding down to the cold body of the girl, I try to take off my jacket to lend to the little body. Pain ripples from my stomach like a stone thrown into a still lake of staggering pain. I soon come to the realisation than my jacket is intangled in my wound received as an award for trying to save that cold little girl. In one final effort its torn free. Weezing as I place it over her I lie down face to face with the body, im in more trouble now. Red is becoming more visible as it constantly flows out of me, as if my stomach was a stream. Face to fI close my eyes  “That was a reduclous idea” I mumble to myself, coughing. A metallic taste fills my mouth.

 Was it all worth it? I had never planned on being a shield. All I had previously heard were muffled screams. I just so happened to see two shadows dancing in the moonlight. Before I knew it I was inbetween the two. Was it my place? In the struggle to get in between the two fighting one of the shadows had been thrown against a wall and was still. The assaulting  shadowy figure had lurched forward driving a glinting blade into me and had uprooted it, taking it out of me all within a second. As the attacker shadow has made their escape I had staggered to the pile of garbage bags which I was currently resting at the base of slowly being drained of life. 

“It wasn’t worth it” I think, not by a long shot. Warm air hits my face, I open my eyes. Everything is alittle darker and blurry now. Another burst of hot air hit. Was it coming from the girl? My thoughts were starting to fade, darkness was closing in on me. Another burst. Was it worth it? The distance of what I could focus on was becoming shorter and shorter, until I could only see her body, her face, now just her eyes. As hers opened mine closed.

 

It was worth it.


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