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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Cultural · #1745719
Short, but hopefully effective.
The wind blew a little unsteady. It came around warm from my left (and no, I’m not good at directions) and a little cold from my right. Came harder from the right, too. A little choppy wind didn’t bother me though. I was used to wind. It was a little hard for me to stay standing. It was getting a little fierce. The grass whipped around me. There were some clouds out. Dark, almost black. It was coming closer, but I could see some ray of the sun blinking under it. The wind under the clouds were blowing cold, but warm wind was also blowing. It was a sensation. It made my skin tingle a little. Everything tingled. I guess it was the swelling. My lip was all puffed out and bleeding. I could feel blood running in my nose. Couldn’t see outta my left eye. And damn it, my leg was the only part of me that was actually aching. I jolted every-time it touched soft earth. I just wanted to make it home. Home without falling down. That would be perfect.

I didn’t like to buy magazines. Well, not normally. But here I was, buying one. At least it was one with a little taste. Didn’t have some celebrity without their make-up on, or with jelly rolls. The normal shit that America thinks is scandalous or worth a read.No, I was looking at a Time Magazine cover. The chemistry of love is what they called it. Kinda wanted to see what it said. Look all smart reading Time magazine. Yep. I would. Got glasses to go along with it. I slid on the check-out thingy, and the cashier rung it up. He was kinda cute.
“You how are you today? ,” It sounded a little gay when I saided. But I wasn’t trying to hit on him. I ask everyone that.
I shook my head, and deepened my voice a little.
“I’m sorry… that sounded a little gay… he-em… how was your day?”
He laughed a little. Uncomfortably. But still a laugh.
It was a beautiful day for walking. Tucked my little magazine under my arm, and frolicked away. Well, didn’t really frolick. Just walked, actually. But I was enjoying the walk. So I count it as a frolick. The first hit came at my ear.
It was ringing, I couldn’t hear. Just fell down. Some of them huddled over me, spitting in my face, holding my arms. Punching me, kicking me. Pulling my hair. They looked red and bloated as they did it. Jumping around, hooting. I couldn’t hear. I didn’t need too. The guy that was on top of me didn’t look angry. He didn’t look sad either. He looked a little afraid. I guess it was all the blood, because I saw his mouth open real big, and he waved his arms. They were gone. The only thing that stopped them was fear, I guess. It wasn’t pity. No. And it wasn’t satisfaction. It was fear. About many things. It was bigger than my fears. Even at that moment it was bigger than mine. And I was coughing up blood, and they were the cowards. I didn’t feel sorry for them.

My leg gave out. I put myself down as safely as I could manage. The cold ground was a little discomforting. Made me twitch. I got comfortable quick. That happens when your clothing dyes red naturally, I guess. And after a while, being alone on the ground, I got a little scared. But it started to rain a little, and that helped.
© Copyright 2011 Arman White (loveandlove2 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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