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I had just gone to see the latest summer blockbuster at the local mall. As the credits rolled, I walked out of the room. A lone security guard sat silently in the shadows of the corridor--almost invisible to passerbys.
As I was exitting the main theater, I noticed a young man in a black trenchcoat with his long, ratty hair tied in back with rubber bands. His scruffy, bearded face was fixed, on a mission. His hands locked in coat pockets. He walked like a shadow of death. But, no matter what chill I felt, I decided to keep walking. Nonetheless, as I turned to the escalator down to the lower floor, I looked back as he proceeded toward the mall's center.
I slipped into my sunglasses which eliminate all but a glimmer of indoor light, wiping out everything around me except for the sunlit sidewalk and a few pedestrians. I stepped outside and put on my noise-cancelling headphones. Turning on the radio, I was elated to hear "The Kids Aren't Alright" by The Offspring. I proceeded to walk across the mall parking lot. Three minutes of an adrenaline-pumping music blared in my ears.
Just as I reached the street corner, I felt something in my legs. I assumed it was just a cramp or tremor from sitting so long. The wind kicked up at my back and nearly knocked the hat and headphones from my head. Stupid wind. I didn't notice at first--as I crossed the street--but the traffic abruptly changed. Cars were clogging the street heading away from me while only a pair of police cars appeared racing toward me on the opposite side.
"Danger Zone" by Kenny Loggins started to play on the radio. I heard the faint sound of a scream of terror as I nudged the earphones from my lobes. Turning back toward the mall, I gradually shifted from first to third gear and found my feet being swallowed by traces of a dust cloud. A cloud which soon blinded me and washed away the path. When I managed to get to a clearing, I finally was able to see it. The remains of the enormous complex once known as my local hangout. My summer oasis. The mall had fallen. And, all that were inside went with it.
In all likelyhood, the stranger I had seen with the black coat and the serious look upon his face was at least partly responsible. But, what did it matter now? It was all over. And, the evidence was buried in the rubble. Who knows what a story the media would weave over this one. But, I was on the front line. I was there. I didn't witness the destruction. But, I sure witnessed the aftermath. And, I wonder...could I have done anything to stop it? To change what happenned. What if I had stopped that dark specter or at least alerted security to him? Would I still have my oasis? Would I have been wrong in my judgement afterall? The movies. The impulse to ignore suspicion and keep walking. The sunglasses blacking out everything around me. The music from my headset radio. It was all poetry. And, I lived to tell about it.
Now what?
[A Stormy Story Seed from yours truly.] |
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Posted by brainstormer on 2008-06-01 02:05:43 | Rating: | Views: 118
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Hey BS - GREAT write... wow.
If you'd stopped to tackle this guy, and he was just a weird looking person, and that is all - you could've been in the rubble ... how scary is that?
I'm glad you lived to tell the tale.
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Posted by EasyToSay
on 2008-06-01 03:16:54
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Well Holy Crap.
That's some creep stuff right there.
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Posted by Long
on 2008-06-01 03:23:15
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The creepiest part of this is how the music correlated with what was going on in real life. Seems like a movie scene.
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Posted by smileforthecamera
on 2008-06-01 14:23:08
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Is this fiction or a real story? (i hope its a story), it is well written either way, the 'now what?' makes me consider a 'sliding doors' type story, so many 'what if?'s.
Grrrreat bit of writing hon, will there be more? x
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Posted by missmarie
on 2008-06-02 21:17:34
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