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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
just trying out an idea

Submitted: February 02, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: February 02, 2008



It was torturous. A fleeting sound of desperation rung out on startled ears. Adrenaline pulsed as if the beat of a fervent war dance intent on dictating his movements. Agile and cautious, he wavered, looking down the street, pressing himself solidly against the cold brick wall.
He could pretend to have not heard the shout and continue as if the desperation did not inspire memories and deflated heroism, or do as the others: perk up his ears to catch fading vibrations and shrug at the futile question curiosity and courage could not motivate to exploration.
What is going on?
As people walked past, their eyes questioned his stance, their mouths leaping condescendingly to categorize his abnormality. Self-righteousness persuaded their reason to deny empathy. Heads turned to whisper into their partner’s ears, delve deeper into the ridiculousness of his actions rather than the ridiculousness of their inaction.
The coolness of the wall coupled with the chill in the air sent shivers down his spine, his teeth chattering loudly within his head. The group of people had passed, leaving him alone on this dark street, uncertainty, keeping him rooted in his spot.
He felt he should do something, but fear gripped his heart. He didn’t want to see the cruelties, merely go on as if they didn’t exist, but something bothered him. It felt as if a force was guiding him away from his usual cowardliness and professing determination where usually there was none.
Slowly, he stumbled toward the alley. No one had bolted out, so there must be someone there. What if this was a setup? What if it was a two man job, and the two men were waiting for him, or someone like him, to fall into their trap?
Dread dropped in the pit of his stomach, churning, an icy rush flowing through his veins. His steps slowed, his ears straining to listen for the sounds of life, of movement. Peering around the corner, his eyes sought out any figures in the darkness. There was nothing, nothing but darkness.
But wait. Something moved. His body went rigid. Suddenly, he could detect the faintest sounds of breathing, a shaky rising and falling of a chest.
One small step in to the void and then another.
“You ok?” Startled, he jumped at the sound of his own voice, echoing again the three buildings around him.
There was no response, just frantic whimpers, fearful whimpers. The figure’s foot twitched as if trying to flee.
“No, no, no. I’m not going to hurt you.”
The breathing did not become any less jagged, but consciousness was apparently becoming more difficult to keep.
“Just relax, ok. I’m gonna get you to a hospital. Alright?”
The figure’s head slumped against its chest.
What was he supposed to do now, he wondered, looking around to the street. Glancing at the figure, he walked back to the sidewalk, both directions vacant.
A sigh. This was stupid. Every bone in his body was telling him this wasn’t a good idea, but he was going to go along wasn’t he?
He was.
He approached the figure once more, less watchful this time, bending down to put his hands under the figure’s knees and shoulder blades.
This was stupid. This was the most unreasonable and irresponsible thing he’d ever done because instead of going to the hospital, he went home.

© Copyright 2018 Aislin Kane. All rights reserved.

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