Sunday, May 23, 2010

A Sudden Gust

He was a blank slate. Staring at the wall. Waiting for input. something to imprint on him. Something to give him direction. He blinked at regular intervals. He could kill just as soon as he could watch television. He was waiting for a command.

A cool breeze blew through the window, open just an inch. Just enough for the air to stir the bottom of the curtains. They made a shush sound as they brushed against the window-sill. That was enough.

He abruptly stood. He brushed a strand of hair out of his face and turned to the window. His blue-grey eyes watched the waltzing curtain for a full minute. It was beautiful, this tiny detail in an otherwise empty room. What was it telling him to do?

He had been sitting for six hours, waiting for a sign. Unable to sleep, unable to make himself do...anything. Were these dancing curtains the sign? Or was it the air, blowing cool and steady through the cracked window? Or was it the window calling to him? The air simply its voice, the curtains its arms - stretching out for him. To embrace him, to hold him, to make him feel safe. Safe from the agony of not knowing what to do. Of being awake and unable to make a decision, to take action.

Yes, the window was calling to him. This was what he was waiting for.This sudden unexpected breeze blowing through a window that had sat open all night. This sudden gust of wind. It was the night's call. Whispering sweet nothings in his ear. Seducing him. He could not resist.

The window sat in brick, high-up the alley wall. The fire-escape was a tangled mess hanging from it like an artful earring. And below,on the alley floor, two bums were fighting over a pair of pants. Suddenly there was a noise from above. An ear-splitting shatter. The bums looked skyward as glass rained down on them. The sky was a starry river between two buildings. A river spitting glass shards and a dark shape.

He landed on top of one of the bums, killing them both instantly. The surviving bum stood, mouth agape holding one leg of the torn trousers. The other pant leg stuck out from the tangle of the two bodies before him. The bum started to cry as the cool night breeze made quiet music which set the alley trash a-dancing.

Originally posted on June 4, 2005 on Myspace.

Some more of my prose fiction.

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