Categories > Original > Fantasy > Strange Things Happen At night
I must have been somewhere between life and death, but I saw the house, the few details I remember about it, and in the window I saw myself as a child. She looked back but didn't smile then I saw the red spark. Maybe I could save her or the others, I rushed to the house and tried to open he door but it burned my hand, I tried to break down the door but felt something pulling me away from it. I screamed for it to let me go, but it wouldn't
And then I came to, I was still on the ground staring into the eyes of my friend. He was dead, I struggled to get up but felt so much pain that I could barely move. I got a look at my wrist there were two small puncture wounds above my write near the main artery, so they missed it on purpose, they didn't mean to kill me. They could come back for me; I was instantly filled with fear, using all my strength I willed myself into a sitting position, my neck was in so much pain that it was hard to move my head but I had to get away from this place, I retrieved my bag and took one last look at my friend and moved. And I never even knew his name.
*
It was all over the news the next day the body of an elderly homeless man was found near the dumpster, a struggle had taken place but he was dead, body drained of blood. Police had no idea what to call it, cause of death, I mean. But I knew that they would be looking for me soon; there was more than enough evidence to suggest I was there. I found a temporary sanctuary in small bar at the city limits, I sat for hours there uncertain on what to do, or what had happened. It wasn't until the barkeep woke me from my stupor to tell me it was closing time.
"You ok kid?" He asked, he must've seen the deep despair in my eyes or heard it in my voice because he reguarded me as though I were a broken doll. Afraid to try and fix me, that I might break worse.
"I think I'll be." He looked around then put something in my hand and left, I looked down he had stuffed what would have been the equivalent to a hundred American dollars into my hand. I looked up to see he was gone and all lights were out. Then I felt that feeling of being watched again so I grabbed my bag and left into the night. My body was still sore all over from my attack and now I could find a place to stay for the night. I walked as though I had walked a hundred years and it seemed as though I was going no where. The wind was blowing again it pushed my hood off and tossed my hair up, it looked like fire when it did that. I looked around, that wind seemed to come out of nowhere, I was paranoid to the fullest extent. Afraid that those things would come back to find me. I didn't want to die, not like that. Not ever.
*
It'd been a week since the attack and somehow I couldn't get out of Helsinki, something always stopped me. Not myself, something physical, I feared for my life everyday. And it only got worse when that money like everything else, disappeared. And again I was on the streets; I had a very different picture painted of the world by this point, every corner they were hiding, waiting to finish me off. But despite my fear, I wanted to know what happened more clearly to know more, that's my other weakness aside from being to nice for my own good. I had to find out more about that night. I had no choice.
With that I started to head back to the spot where it happened, the alley.
*
I don't know how long it took me to get there but though I had tried to avoid that place I found my way back without any trouble. There was crime scene tape up and cones to keep people away, it was still unsolved. His body had been taken to the morgue no doubt; maybe he had some family somewhere that could give him a nice funeral. For a long time I just stood at the entrance to the alley, trying to find the courage within myself to cross the tape. I wanted to move forward but my feet wouldn't move. Maybe it was too cold and I should be somewhere warm. I could make excuses all I wanted, but in the end it still needed to move forward. And somehow I did.
There was still blood mixed into the snow, some of it had frozen into ice I reached a hesitant hand forward to touch it, not sure why I needed to, I guess it brought me that much closer to him. He had been so tough that night, he was hurt and then told to run but he tried, he ran. Maybe there was some of his life left here, buried. Beneath the snow. I don't know how long I stood there holding his frozen blood in my hands but for that moment, there was nothing else. Just a man who was more like a father than a stranger. I had to do something; I couldn't keep running away from what frightened me.
*
Why did I end up in that alley that night weeks ago? I don't know, why do things happen as they do? But all I knew for certain was that when I held his blood in my hands I couldn't leave until I hate righted what had taken place.
And then I came to, I was still on the ground staring into the eyes of my friend. He was dead, I struggled to get up but felt so much pain that I could barely move. I got a look at my wrist there were two small puncture wounds above my write near the main artery, so they missed it on purpose, they didn't mean to kill me. They could come back for me; I was instantly filled with fear, using all my strength I willed myself into a sitting position, my neck was in so much pain that it was hard to move my head but I had to get away from this place, I retrieved my bag and took one last look at my friend and moved. And I never even knew his name.
*
It was all over the news the next day the body of an elderly homeless man was found near the dumpster, a struggle had taken place but he was dead, body drained of blood. Police had no idea what to call it, cause of death, I mean. But I knew that they would be looking for me soon; there was more than enough evidence to suggest I was there. I found a temporary sanctuary in small bar at the city limits, I sat for hours there uncertain on what to do, or what had happened. It wasn't until the barkeep woke me from my stupor to tell me it was closing time.
"You ok kid?" He asked, he must've seen the deep despair in my eyes or heard it in my voice because he reguarded me as though I were a broken doll. Afraid to try and fix me, that I might break worse.
"I think I'll be." He looked around then put something in my hand and left, I looked down he had stuffed what would have been the equivalent to a hundred American dollars into my hand. I looked up to see he was gone and all lights were out. Then I felt that feeling of being watched again so I grabbed my bag and left into the night. My body was still sore all over from my attack and now I could find a place to stay for the night. I walked as though I had walked a hundred years and it seemed as though I was going no where. The wind was blowing again it pushed my hood off and tossed my hair up, it looked like fire when it did that. I looked around, that wind seemed to come out of nowhere, I was paranoid to the fullest extent. Afraid that those things would come back to find me. I didn't want to die, not like that. Not ever.
*
It'd been a week since the attack and somehow I couldn't get out of Helsinki, something always stopped me. Not myself, something physical, I feared for my life everyday. And it only got worse when that money like everything else, disappeared. And again I was on the streets; I had a very different picture painted of the world by this point, every corner they were hiding, waiting to finish me off. But despite my fear, I wanted to know what happened more clearly to know more, that's my other weakness aside from being to nice for my own good. I had to find out more about that night. I had no choice.
With that I started to head back to the spot where it happened, the alley.
*
I don't know how long it took me to get there but though I had tried to avoid that place I found my way back without any trouble. There was crime scene tape up and cones to keep people away, it was still unsolved. His body had been taken to the morgue no doubt; maybe he had some family somewhere that could give him a nice funeral. For a long time I just stood at the entrance to the alley, trying to find the courage within myself to cross the tape. I wanted to move forward but my feet wouldn't move. Maybe it was too cold and I should be somewhere warm. I could make excuses all I wanted, but in the end it still needed to move forward. And somehow I did.
There was still blood mixed into the snow, some of it had frozen into ice I reached a hesitant hand forward to touch it, not sure why I needed to, I guess it brought me that much closer to him. He had been so tough that night, he was hurt and then told to run but he tried, he ran. Maybe there was some of his life left here, buried. Beneath the snow. I don't know how long I stood there holding his frozen blood in my hands but for that moment, there was nothing else. Just a man who was more like a father than a stranger. I had to do something; I couldn't keep running away from what frightened me.
*
Why did I end up in that alley that night weeks ago? I don't know, why do things happen as they do? But all I knew for certain was that when I held his blood in my hands I couldn't leave until I hate righted what had taken place.
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