Her Cold Hand Nearly Touched Mine

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Experience, life, horror and fantasy are put to a test. Live what some had lived. A boy affraid and experience he will never forget

Submitted: June 10, 2012

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Submitted: June 10, 2012

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Her cold hand nearly touched mine

Ending another day at school, ending the day where my fears just grew. With every tick of the clock I knew, with every tick of the clock she knew. I arrived to my home, usual Friday in the afternoon, a beautiful day with a bright sun. Although my mind wasn’t sharing that same light, that same happiness the clouds and wind tried to share with me. But I’m stubborn and my shadows and fears got me before the sun. I stayed for a minute outside of my house, watching how I would or how I could survive what I was about to experience. I hardly entered my house, I couldn’t think of anything else but the journey my mind and body where preparing me for.

Left my bag in my room and started doing what routine always tells me to do: obey. I, for a while, forgot. Sometimes forgetting things suites best for someone, you just live without caring, seeing the big picture. When I opened my eyes the shadows of night were visiting me once more. They were my guards, telling when my hour, when my enemy was near. Approaching with a twisted mind full of distilled thoughts mixed with filtered hallucinations, approaching. Suddenly I hear a sound so familiar, but at the same time so far and unknown. Maybe I was just trying to forget my faith and believe in happiness like people used to. I packed my things, told my brother, my companion in this journey, that hell was awaiting. His face turned white, like if that statement erased all of the life he was carrying, all the hope he was creating vanished before my eyes.

We went out through the front door, that walk has been one of the longest in my life. There we were standing in the parking lot watching how liquid destroys a man. How our example of life gets more attracted by the society and bottles. Rather than give an example, he prefers his good old nice bottle. They say it takes away pain or drowns sorrows you couldn’t bare with a clear judgment. I haven’t seen such effects, if it really worked one dose would erase all; the thing is that shortcuts never work better than ways up. There are some scars that will never heal; there isn’t a magic drink or a fabulous lotion. You have to live with it and take of it all the advantage you can. I was thinking all of this, while  making my way down to the car, that old white car. We got inside and in the driver’s seat I see this man, if that thing that was sitting there could be named a man. With glassy eyes, repulsive breath and lost ideas that were trying to escape from his dirty mouth.

Suddenly, while I was watching through the window, a blow strikes my head with great power. I turned around and this being was insulting and saying pure stupidity. My head hurt, but my pride and honor were bleeding out with sorrow. My eyes tried to cry, tried to show weakness, but I stood up and controlled myself. Just one drop rolled over my chick that I, with great speed, removed. The driving always is like a box of stones, you never know where the fuck are you going to land. Fear always invades my mind, wondering if I’ll die quickly, how would my death be and should someone care if something happens to me? Would my death be honored or just be a headline in the newspaper for stupid people to see? At least I’ll be the man of the hour for a couple of minutes.

Bump after bump, the car just jumped and jumped, passing so close to every car. Making so much noise and shouting careless things that this being and no one would like to hear. Almost praying, for the police not catch us or any other types of incident wouldn’t occur. The thing I desired the most was to get to the house safe, but reality showed something else that night. We were half way home when a light came through the window, then a shout, anger and the will to kill. Some guy with a big van crashed a little bit in the front of the car, the thing is that the white van didn’t expect with what he was messing with. This being wanted blood, he wanted revenge and get to empty all of his stress in that man´s face. He didn’t want to fight, so he ran away. But this wouldn’t stop the thirst of blood of the being I was with, he was just warming up. A chase started violence against nonviolence, a great war in a tiny scale. The true nature of man putted into a test of survival, to define were each rock should land, in the sand or in the bottom of the sea.

The first thing that I thought was: how can someone betray his principles so easy? I mean, if that’s the case, this being never really had principles at all. His, so called, mind was based on the philosophy thought by the bushido, better known as the samurai´s manual. It states that fighting should be the last resource, be a gentleman always. This being was all the opposite, I bet samurais fought or protected their people from beings like that. Anger took possession of his body and wouldn’t let go, not even for the desperate words of the child.

It ends up quiet unusual, this being couldn’t catch the “bad guy”, and he cooled down and asked for an apology. I just couldn’t believe it, I said that I accepted his apology, but deep in my heart I’ll never will. There just are some people that can’t be forgiven, that can’t be saved. They just can bear with their lives, until someday they notice all their mistakes and shitty things they did. But it will be too damn late. This tale I lived it myself, so indeed there are people that life has give them his back and try to drag all the people they can without even noticing. That night I realized that I was more alone in this life than I was ever before. Only one thing keeps me going, “the will to think that there are still men that go against the flow, that even though people called them crazy fuckers, they will give their life to prove that the crazy fucker’s thing is all the way around”


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