The Pusher

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
The sounds of shattering glass, a brief scream, and a hollow ‘thunk’ looped continuously in his mind like the background music for a cheap porno.

Submitted: April 03, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 03, 2008



Both hands of the clock reached for the sky and surrendered to the lunchtime crowd; time to feed the beast.
NYC roared to life with blaring sirens and screeching brakes. More than a few swore in frustration, several raised one finger salutes; a daily exercise in futility in a city so fucking diseased they’d named it twice. The sounds of shattering glass, a brief scream, and a hollow ‘thunk’ looped continuously in his mind like a cheap porno soundtrack.

Collin Maven perched on his gloved hands, at the top of the steps, to keep the granite slab from chilling his ass. He peered across the streets to the pitiful crowd that had gathered to watch the steaming pool of blood. It soaked the sidewalk with the leaper's shame and flowed downstream in the crevices of the cement, only to end in the gutter.

A twisted heap of muscle, gore, and bone held together by the remnants of a fine Italian suit, the center of attention. He exhaled forcefully through his nose, like a spooked deer catching a wiff of man…and then inhaled, deeply. Through his sensitive nose he could smell the coppery scent. His taste buds tingled, he could taste it. It aroused him, as it usually did. It was his drug of choice.

A photographer arrived and snapped some tasteless mementos for the morning edition half a minute before the boys in blue showed up with yellow tape and Collin decided to move on with his game. The photographer had shifted his gaze and started snapping pictures of the shattered window fifteen stories up when Collin turned the corner and headed south.

Another day…another willing demise. It had taken far less effort this time. He was honing his skills; a natural talent. One simple push, a mental shrug, ending with three seconds of blissful freefall.

His eyes smiled behind mirror sunglasses and he thought, ‘I’d give that dive a nine- point- five. Perfect form but his entry was a liiiiiittle sloppy.’

He approached a greasy hotdog vendor coughing into the elbow of his shabby coat and paid for a chilidog. Inhaling it in three bites, he threw his trash in a barrel and watched as the hotdog man started refilling his bins. He smiled and gave the man a slight push, just a tweak.

The hot dog man looked around to check if anyone was observing him and promptly spit a gob of green snot into the water bath. He ripped open a the bag of dogs and dumped them into the steaming bacteria broth.

Collin chuckled in childlike satisfaction and walked a couple of blocks, searching.  He entered Recyclers, a tiny used book store, and browsed the aisles. It was a perfect cover for the Pusher.  Here he could people watch for as long as he wanted. A tall business exec caught his eye briefly and turned away.

During the last month he’d started using the Pusher nickname for his little escapades, like some sort of super villain. Lately, when he ventured out for a bit of fresh air, fun, and devilry, the Pusher took over.

He had always been sensitive to strangers’ thoughts, more so than others. A gift, his mother said; it runs in the family.

He could sense their moods, their dreams, their secrets, even their darkest fears. If he tried…he could slip his way in and nudge their thoughts.
Just a momentary push during the right thought, at the right moment in time and BAM…they would move in the direction they were headed. It was just as though he was standing behind them and gave them a gentle shove.

He watched as a pretty blonde college girl browsed the magazine rack. The tall business exec in the dark suit stood next to her.  He was casually looking down her open blouse, thinking how firm and inviting her pouting breasts looked.

Collin considered giving him a little push to see if he would 'reach out and touch somebody' right here in the store, but quickly changed his mind. He hungered for more. The little episode with the jumper had left him with a hunger for bigger thrills. He turned and left the store, resuming the game.

He didn’t make it ten steps when he saw his chance. Across the street was a homeless—thing, bent at the waist, her head in the garbage digging out a five cent treasure, .

Collin couldn’t tell from looking if it was a man or a woman, but he could read her miserable thoughts. She had been homeless for longer than she could recall and was tired; tired of living, tired of scrounging, tired of the assholes that slept next to her at night copping a feel, and saying they were trying to stay warm.

Collin smiled. He felt the thrill. Electricity surged in his veins. He gave her a small push.

She pulled her head out of the trash bin and took a step towards the busy street...and stopped.
Collin moved a step closer to the curb see what she’d do next. She wouldn't budge, eyes glazed with fear.
He pushed. She took another step…and stopped.

This time she was only a step or two from the curb. He moved closer for a better look. He was momentarily confused.

‘Why was she stopping?’ he pondered.

He looked around hungrily. So close, so close.

Once again, he was aroused and needed to climax. He took another step, closer. He pushed.

She took another step…and stopped at the edge of the curb.

He could see her dingy brown eyes now. He could feel her shock. He could smell the grime on her.  He could taste her regrets.
As Collin took another step closer, his right foot slipped off the curb, as if pushed from behind. His balance wavered.

Screeching brakes pierced his eardrums a heartbeat before the windshield of the speeding bus detonated his skull. A hollow ‘thunk’ hung in the cool air.

His blood pooled into the gutter.

The exec in the dark suit stood a few feet away, sheltered in the doorway to Recyclers, smiling into his steaming latte, watching. He pocketed the blonde college girl’s phone number, her perfume still fresh. He was getting very good.

He liked the name... Pusher. It fit nicely, now that it was available.
The sound of sirens brought him alert. He realized his play hour had ended, and paused briefly at a hotdog stand to fill his growling stomach.

© Copyright 2018 Able Anders. All rights reserved.

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