Fast paced footsteps draw nearer; their direction unknown. The footsteps stop suddenly only to be interrupted by a clattering of trashcans being strewn about as a body hits wet pavement. The person cries out in agony, obviously in pain but also to throw a bit of a tantrum. One of the trashcans is clearly kicked as the body makes it’s way back to its feet. Heavy breathing draws closer to the looming darkness. The swinging open then dramatic slamming of a door briefly interrupts the darkness. A silhouette of a man showed as the light graced the darkness for mere seconds. His fingers were thick against the frame of the door His hair hung long and matted, possibly wet from the rain. The source of the light was unknown bi it afforded the darkness life. Life it would soon long for once more. After slamming the door the man fell to the ground sitting back against the door. He welcomed the black void, the silence. It was a comfort to him. There are no windows nor cracks or seems at the door. No light creeps in nor darkness seeps out.
“We’ve lost him!” a man screams minutes later.
“Doesn’t matter.” Another man says in passing. “I shot him dead to rights. Its really only a matter of time.” The men outside grow quiet as their footsteps become more faint in the distance. Still Huddled against the door in the darkness, the man’s breathing pucks up. A rustling in the darkness alerts the man's senses. He strikes a lighter piercing the darkness momentarily. It doesn’t catch fire. A task so remedial weighs on him heavily. Curious to see something, anything he powers through the task focusing to get it struck this time. As he figured, the room is an abandoned wreck. It is ugly and unsettling. Out of the darkness tiny eyes glare at him before blinking and scurrying off into the darkness once more. With death in the air he drops his head in dismay.
I’m right where I belong. He thinks to himself with a slight whimpering in his throat.
Between his legs he notices an old tattered photograph partially burned and partially gnawed on by rodents sticking out from under a rug. The scene is simple enough. A couple sits on their hotel room patio. They can be seen through the patio door. The two queen sized beds suggest they may be more friendly than romantic. The man squints feeling his sight fail him. He notices their faces and fantasizes about the joys the two spoke of. He chuckles to himself realizing he no longer sees the man who is actually in the photo but himself. He longs for the joy the photo offers up.
She loved me despite my flaws and I loved her because of hers. I accept this fate knowing she loved me. The man
A smile crosses his face once more before the dancing flame snaps closed snatching the black void back to reality; it erases any life once prominent. A wheezing hiss and throaty gurgle breaks the silence followed by the clatter of the lighter tumbling from a short fall out of lifeless fingers.
"It's only a semi-truck." Karen calmed herself reaching to change the radio dial. "You'll see him soon enough." She exhales picking up a shoebox full of letters from the passenger seat. She thumbs through multi-colored enveleopes until she comes upon her intended target pausing to read it briefly before returning the box to its resting place. Resting on the hot leather steering wheel cover, Karen smiles, eyes closed and day dreaming of her little boy as he waved good-bye before boarding the bus to camp.
She imagines scenes the letters spoke of: chasing girls, fighting, archery and dozens of random joys only a boy could have away from home. I wonder how big he's gotten over the past 2 months? She thinks. Karen, startled by tapping on her window, jerks back to reality. Her door swings open to a now towering son welcoming her with a hug.