Story: A Perfect Moment
Cold air rushed past me cooling the fear induced sweat that coated my skin. The blade of his knife had already inflicted small cuts along the edge of my throat and collarbone due to the quick and clumsy movements of his hand that gripped it. Even though the small droplets of blood mixed with sweat were far from my lips, I swear I could taste that jaw clinching bitterness circulating in each bubble of liquid.
I was soon locked away in my own penetrating fear that removed all sense of heat; not leaving my body cold, but rather just numb. I barely even noticed the aggressors hand halfway up my shirt. The only sensation I could fully recognize was the stinging metal of his knife carelessly dancing above my jugular. I didn’t want to breathe, fearing that any movement I made would cause this stranger to tighten his grip and push the blade deeper into my flesh.
Memories of fights, broken bones, irrational decisions where I willingly put myself in harms way, all began to quake in my mind. The crack from the fender of my mother’s station wagon, as it snapped nearly in two from the moment of impact with the side of the mountain, erupted in my ears. That same knot in the pit of my stomach and sense of weightless triggered from that memory, invoked another one. This time I found myself in school, my upper body being pulled back by a wad of my hair tangled deeply into some girl’s fist. My body lunged forward and just as my head was about to connect to the locker in front of me, a door slammed in my face. As I jolted from that memory to this one I heard a guy yelling at me from the other side of the door. He exclaimed in a loud slur that he would be back when it damn it well pleased him. I could hear my car come to a roaring start in the distance as I desperately pulled and twisted the locked door that restricted me to this damp and frigged room.
Through each of these memories, small tormenting thoughts of pain and doom circulated my mind and that same sensation, that not only was something horrible happening, but it would pale in comparison to what was to come. However, coming back to the present reality, all of these fears cracked under the enormous weight of a thought that had been clinging to the back of my throat since I’d found myself walking down the wrong street tonight, “There is no escape.”
I knew that even with all my hope, all my false prayers, all my would-be attempts of struggle, tonight I would meet my end. The instinct for survival is stronger then any sense of self predicted reality. Even the most rational logic will subside to this primal urge. With this knowledge accompanied by my apparition of death, I extended my attention past the blade and started to concoct a means of escape.
My entire body was pressed against a concrete wall, my back against the faceless attacker. His arms were wrapped around my arms and chest, only allowing my hands small movements. His torso pressed firmly against my backside and his legs and feet were on the inside of mine, keeping them spread. I couldn’t move my neck and head more then a few inches as our faces were cheek to cheek. His pungent, rotten breath burned my nostrils when he spoke. From the corner of my eye I could make out a blackened tooth that barely stuck out over his bottom lip. His mouth was the only thing I could see other then the threading of his black ski mask.
I knew I was in an alley not ten blocks from home, but past that was lost somewhere in my memory. All I could see was the wall in front of me and the quivering lips of what I suspected would be my killer. I thought of countless scenarios in a matter of a few seconds; none of which were plausible. Most involved someone coming to my rescue or the man having a heart attack. Few involved my own cunning and strength. I knew both of those had disappeared as soon as I felt his grip on my wrist and heard the click of the switchblade unleash its shining arm of intimidation.
I felt his free hand slide down my waste, past my belly button and I knew what was coming, so I screamed. I didn’t have time to think about the repercussions. The instinct to cry out had built up inside me and was now pouring out in such an uncontrollable rampage that I felt myself become faint. As soon as my shrill cry caught in my throat, I saw the wall in front of me grow hazy. The lack of oxygen was making the world around me grow dark. At first I thought I had used all my breath screaming. I soon discovered that it wasn’t that I had no breath left; it was that I couldn’t breathe. I was choking.
My senses became mixed as I started to struggle. My wrist slammed against the wall, but I couldn’t feel it. Instead, a strong taste of wet concrete trickled down my nose and stung the back of my tongue. The position of his legs against mine softened enough where I could move my legs again. Without thought of direction I swung my right leg out which caused my knee to collide with the wall as well. Again I felt nothing, but simultaneously a loud ringing flooded my left ear. Finally, his arms lifted off of mine and I dropped to the ground. I tried to look down, but I couldn’t see anything. Everything was black. No matter which way my eyes turned, all I could see was darkness. After a moment of swaying back and forth on my hands and knees the night’s light rushed back into my irises. Ironically enough I realized I had unknowingly kept my eyes closed. I may have laughed at the absurdity of it if I had not still been choking.
With my eyes open, I felt a regenerating sense of awareness pump through me. My ear stopped ringing and the taste of concrete disappeared. In the place of these distorted senses my wrist began to throb and my knee developed a sharp pain that ran up into my thigh. Then I noticed something else that made my choking seem obsolete and at the same time, so much more devastating.
It was blood. There was a large pool of it directly beneath my head. Suddenly the sound of sputtering circulated all around me. I became instantly aware of why I couldn’t breathe. My throat had been slit. I raised my hand that was covered in dirt and small specks of gravel to my collarbone. It was saturated in my warm, flowing blood. I slid my fingertips along the dip in my throat until it reached the broken flesh. My eyes grew wide as my hand clasped around the open wound. Beneath my palm I felt my life pump through the gash and drip through the cracks between my fingers.
The sound of my own choking disappeared and was replaced with a deafening sound that I didn’t quite recognize. At first I thought it was my heart, pounding away underneath my rib cage, but it was to erratic to be the quick rhythmic beating of my heart. Instead, as I looked down, I noticed the vibrations of the puddle of blood below me were in synch with the loud pounding noise thundering through my head. It was the sound of blood dripping from my wound onto the wet ground, only amplified by my fear riddled senses.
I closed my eyes again and rolled onto the ground, unable to continue to keep my balance with only one hand. When I opened them I was staring up at the sky and I instantly became calm. My hand slid off of my neck and fell limp. My legs relaxed and uncoiled until they lay flat against the alleyway. All sound disappeared and I was now engulfed by a tranquil silence. I felt a wave of exhaustion sweep over me and with this, my fear evaporated. I no longer cared if I couldn’t breathe or if my body ached. All I was concentrating on was the clouds.
Between the buildings that formed the ally, the sky was completely illuminated by thin, wispy clouds blanketing the full moon. They raced across the sky with such enthusiasm and such freedom that I couldn’t help but be entranced with their beauty. All fear, all the pain, all the plaguing memories from my past, drifted away. I found that I was no longer cold or warm, just simply there. My eyes blinked slowly, and then I became engulfed by a desire to be free. At that moment all I wanted was to be a cloud. I soon believe that that’s all I had ever wanted in life. Through each day I had lived everything had been leading up to this perfect moment. I was going to become a cloud and I couldn’t have been happier.
I was soon locked away in my own penetrating fear that removed all sense of heat; not leaving my body cold, but rather just numb. I barely even noticed the aggressors hand halfway up my shirt. The only sensation I could fully recognize was the stinging metal of his knife carelessly dancing above my jugular. I didn’t want to breathe, fearing that any movement I made would cause this stranger to tighten his grip and push the blade deeper into my flesh.
Memories of fights, broken bones, irrational decisions where I willingly put myself in harms way, all began to quake in my mind. The crack from the fender of my mother’s station wagon, as it snapped nearly in two from the moment of impact with the side of the mountain, erupted in my ears. That same knot in the pit of my stomach and sense of weightless triggered from that memory, invoked another one. This time I found myself in school, my upper body being pulled back by a wad of my hair tangled deeply into some girl’s fist. My body lunged forward and just as my head was about to connect to the locker in front of me, a door slammed in my face. As I jolted from that memory to this one I heard a guy yelling at me from the other side of the door. He exclaimed in a loud slur that he would be back when it damn it well pleased him. I could hear my car come to a roaring start in the distance as I desperately pulled and twisted the locked door that restricted me to this damp and frigged room.
Through each of these memories, small tormenting thoughts of pain and doom circulated my mind and that same sensation, that not only was something horrible happening, but it would pale in comparison to what was to come. However, coming back to the present reality, all of these fears cracked under the enormous weight of a thought that had been clinging to the back of my throat since I’d found myself walking down the wrong street tonight, “There is no escape.”
I knew that even with all my hope, all my false prayers, all my would-be attempts of struggle, tonight I would meet my end. The instinct for survival is stronger then any sense of self predicted reality. Even the most rational logic will subside to this primal urge. With this knowledge accompanied by my apparition of death, I extended my attention past the blade and started to concoct a means of escape.
My entire body was pressed against a concrete wall, my back against the faceless attacker. His arms were wrapped around my arms and chest, only allowing my hands small movements. His torso pressed firmly against my backside and his legs and feet were on the inside of mine, keeping them spread. I couldn’t move my neck and head more then a few inches as our faces were cheek to cheek. His pungent, rotten breath burned my nostrils when he spoke. From the corner of my eye I could make out a blackened tooth that barely stuck out over his bottom lip. His mouth was the only thing I could see other then the threading of his black ski mask.
I knew I was in an alley not ten blocks from home, but past that was lost somewhere in my memory. All I could see was the wall in front of me and the quivering lips of what I suspected would be my killer. I thought of countless scenarios in a matter of a few seconds; none of which were plausible. Most involved someone coming to my rescue or the man having a heart attack. Few involved my own cunning and strength. I knew both of those had disappeared as soon as I felt his grip on my wrist and heard the click of the switchblade unleash its shining arm of intimidation.
I felt his free hand slide down my waste, past my belly button and I knew what was coming, so I screamed. I didn’t have time to think about the repercussions. The instinct to cry out had built up inside me and was now pouring out in such an uncontrollable rampage that I felt myself become faint. As soon as my shrill cry caught in my throat, I saw the wall in front of me grow hazy. The lack of oxygen was making the world around me grow dark. At first I thought I had used all my breath screaming. I soon discovered that it wasn’t that I had no breath left; it was that I couldn’t breathe. I was choking.
My senses became mixed as I started to struggle. My wrist slammed against the wall, but I couldn’t feel it. Instead, a strong taste of wet concrete trickled down my nose and stung the back of my tongue. The position of his legs against mine softened enough where I could move my legs again. Without thought of direction I swung my right leg out which caused my knee to collide with the wall as well. Again I felt nothing, but simultaneously a loud ringing flooded my left ear. Finally, his arms lifted off of mine and I dropped to the ground. I tried to look down, but I couldn’t see anything. Everything was black. No matter which way my eyes turned, all I could see was darkness. After a moment of swaying back and forth on my hands and knees the night’s light rushed back into my irises. Ironically enough I realized I had unknowingly kept my eyes closed. I may have laughed at the absurdity of it if I had not still been choking.
With my eyes open, I felt a regenerating sense of awareness pump through me. My ear stopped ringing and the taste of concrete disappeared. In the place of these distorted senses my wrist began to throb and my knee developed a sharp pain that ran up into my thigh. Then I noticed something else that made my choking seem obsolete and at the same time, so much more devastating.
It was blood. There was a large pool of it directly beneath my head. Suddenly the sound of sputtering circulated all around me. I became instantly aware of why I couldn’t breathe. My throat had been slit. I raised my hand that was covered in dirt and small specks of gravel to my collarbone. It was saturated in my warm, flowing blood. I slid my fingertips along the dip in my throat until it reached the broken flesh. My eyes grew wide as my hand clasped around the open wound. Beneath my palm I felt my life pump through the gash and drip through the cracks between my fingers.
The sound of my own choking disappeared and was replaced with a deafening sound that I didn’t quite recognize. At first I thought it was my heart, pounding away underneath my rib cage, but it was to erratic to be the quick rhythmic beating of my heart. Instead, as I looked down, I noticed the vibrations of the puddle of blood below me were in synch with the loud pounding noise thundering through my head. It was the sound of blood dripping from my wound onto the wet ground, only amplified by my fear riddled senses.
I closed my eyes again and rolled onto the ground, unable to continue to keep my balance with only one hand. When I opened them I was staring up at the sky and I instantly became calm. My hand slid off of my neck and fell limp. My legs relaxed and uncoiled until they lay flat against the alleyway. All sound disappeared and I was now engulfed by a tranquil silence. I felt a wave of exhaustion sweep over me and with this, my fear evaporated. I no longer cared if I couldn’t breathe or if my body ached. All I was concentrating on was the clouds.
Between the buildings that formed the ally, the sky was completely illuminated by thin, wispy clouds blanketing the full moon. They raced across the sky with such enthusiasm and such freedom that I couldn’t help but be entranced with their beauty. All fear, all the pain, all the plaguing memories from my past, drifted away. I found that I was no longer cold or warm, just simply there. My eyes blinked slowly, and then I became engulfed by a desire to be free. At that moment all I wanted was to be a cloud. I soon believe that that’s all I had ever wanted in life. Through each day I had lived everything had been leading up to this perfect moment. I was going to become a cloud and I couldn’t have been happier.
posted by ~Allie~ @ 2:58 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home