Storytime... (KISS)

...the twisted little way I have of writing...

Monday, January 08, 2007

In the hedges

I ran into him on the street, just past the coffee-shop corner he stopped me in my tracks and for a moment he looked up from beneath that wide brim hat and trench coat clad silhouette and we locked eyes. I was frozen with fear, he was supposed to be dead.

It was raining and dark that night and as I stared out my window into the thin light of this little suburbia hell street I live on I watched incessantly the break in the woods. The tree-line was solid and thick save for one spot, if anyone were to come through they would have to go through there. My gaze was trained, and my Airsoft gun with its silencer was tense in my hand, hanging like a dead weight at my side. Whenever he came I would be ready for him.
It was 2:37 am and the gun grew heavier with my eyelids. I wasn't used to them waiting so long. The neighbors cat strolled by, a random light went out two streets down, I heard a twig snap and I knew it had to be time. 3:43 time flies when you have nothing to gauge it by, the tick of the clock had long since dulled into submission to the low thud in my temples. I could hear him breathing.
Tick, tick, tock tocca tick. It was the sound of a wristwatch, unfamiliar, but how was he already in the house? I began to turn as the window shattered and the click of the trigger registered in my brain. The whiz of the bullet resounding in my ear as I reeled around to find him, aim and fire... but where was he. I scanned the darkness and felt the cool night air's breeze on my back. My hand felt light and numb. He must have seen my own gun and shot it from my hand the tricky snake, my gun was on the cold floor, broken and as I searched the darkness frantic and cold I began to hear the watch again. Turning I caught a glimpse of his figure passing through the break in the woods. I grabbed my ankle-arm and shot a single true shot, I heard him cry out in pain and in a moment he was gone. I assumed dead, I would check to see in the morning.
He had tried to kill me.
He'd succeeded in breaking my gun and my window, but I got a look at his face. Through the darkness his eyes were wild and unusually... scared.
Would the old bird try to kill me again? Would he realize I knew who he was?
I thought about his face all the next day while I patched the window. Would I see him again? The neighbors asked why my window had broken, I told them a bird in the night had broken into my house. It was true.
When I saw him on the street, he acted as if he didn’t know me. Frozen with fear I stared at him as he passed me and was suddenly gone again in the crowd. A figure floating in and out of my conciousness.

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