I chose, to live?

Where was I? So many familiar faces. What were we doing in a church? The man was about to speak. Why were people leaving? I don’t understand anything any more.

We weren’t in the church anymore. There was a bus in-front of us. So, this must be a tour of some sort. They were taking a short cut. Looks like we are too. The road doesn’t even look usable. Was it even a road. It seems awfully too close to the edge.

Why am I outside? Did I chose to walk? Seems like I wasn’t the only one. She was talking as the guys were taking pictures. The bus was moving slowly. What was it that I saw on the driver’s face? As they fell I saw so many faces pressed against the windows trying to get out. Did I hear myself scream or was it them? Smoke. “Somebody call an ambulance.” I stood at the edge screaming at them to get out; get out before they went up in flames.

*

Did I cry? Maybe, I did. All I could feel was his strong arms around me. I was warm and safe. I didn’t let go of his hands all throughout the questioning. I told them how I saw it fall, how I stood still as it fell, how I only opened my mouth after the bus nose-dived down. Why were we outside, they wanted to know. I was, as I was scared. The others thought it might be more fun to walk across. Did I laugh? I don’t know.

So many bodies went across. So many young lives. I knew some of them, very well. Too well. Should I ask? Were they all dead? Do we continue this journey? We’d lost so much on that bus. Was I selfish? I worried about my luggage, the pendant she gave me to remember her by. Maybe, I should have been on the bus. Did the others feel lost too? I’m sure they did. We were the ones who got off despite the co-ordinator’s disapproval. They’d chosen to stay in the bus, did they choose to die?

We were at the hotel. Our floor was so quiet. So many empty rooms around. I wondered if the ones in the hospital would make it back. Would they stand at the balcony, look down and laugh at how small everything looked? She asked if I wanted food. No, I needed air. There were so many windows here. So much glass. I saw their faces pressed against the windows trying to get out. She said she’ll bring something for me as she walked down with the guys. I’ll be up, I said, getting some air.

The 23rd floor. The terrace. It was cold. Was it this cold earlier? I stood against the railings. Did they fall from this high? Will I step up on to the edge? Will I choose to jump? If I did, will I feel like them falling? I could choose, they couldn’t. I couldn’t look down anymore, I knew I fell. Where?

I was warm and safe in his strong arms. Walk forward, move on? Maybe we did.

 

 

Note: I dreamt up half of this on an uneventful birthday morning, hence the incoherency.  Also, I’m on the lookout for this guy who gives nice warm hugs. Such a lovely thing to wake up to.

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I chose, to live?

On a 9 to 5 day.

I’ve been trying to write something different for a while. Hence, this. Though, reading it over, I do feel like I should stick to my usual topics. I’d love it if someone took the whole idea and wrote up something a whole lot better. 

*

Few months ago, I used to sit on a rooftop waiting for the sun to go down; I’d be spotting fat bankers, giggling schoolgirls and all those men and women rushing off with their Starbucks coffee. No, I wasn’t people watching. It was all part of my job. Things were always better once the sun went down. Then, they had to go and change my work hours. I mean, how on earth was I going to stun your average 130 pounds weighing mass of flesh, flay the skin and dismember the organs in broad daylight? I even had to go through six months of training to even walk relatively like a human. Even after all that it was hard to shed the innate hostility I had towards them.

Listen, I know that being a professional means having to work untimely hours. Yet, what you don’t understand is how easy my work used to be after sundown. I used to be quite the predator. Even if you pounced on these delicate beings, their shrieking echoes would go unheard in this city where no one looked for trouble. I could’ve done this along any street in London and still gotten away with it. Though now, even I had to mark my territory. Right now I had placed dibs on Stables market. The place was amaze and certainly a gem in the streets of Camden. People of all kind flocked there and hunting sure was easy. The place was a maze and I could even risk revealing myself without being screamed at. Though, lack of stealth isn’t looked too kindly upon by the Council members. I got fined last week for appearing in a sci-fi magazine. It wasn’t even on the front page. It was just a measly column towards the end highlighting Camden’s finest freaks. Though, I won’t repeat that ever again. Living on human food for a week sure didn’t agree with my body.

She’s walking out now. I’ve had my eye on her for a few months now. I could smell her. She’s had another tattoo done. The smell of blood kept pushing out through her pores. There was some mercury and cadmium in her too and something that smelt unearthly. She’ll go into the passage soon completely unaware of how she’s wasted 60 quid on something just I’ll see. Maybe I should peel off her skin and take it as a keepsake. The poisoned darts were out. Yes, I am a little old-fashioned like that. It just looked like she was sleeping. The scalpels and knives were sharpened. Time was ticking. I should’ve flayed her skin by now. There were more people to prey on by the end of the shift. However, I couldn’t. I dragged her into my double bass case and got walked towards the tube station. People paid much less attention to you on the tube rather than on the bus. Oakwood was a while away and the Northern line couldn’t go any slower. I was nervous. I hadn’t gone through the usual routine. All I could hope was that I wouldn’t be disturbed till I got to the house.

The case fell a couple of times, I feared it would open and I’d have to stare into her grey eyes once again. It was a dash to the flat from the tube station. Rigor mortis would set in a couple of hours and I knew I had to get on with it.  She wasn’t anything special. Just another bruised human who’d be shipped down through the stream. Though, it was worrying. I’ve gotten a lot slower, a lot more compassionate. Living with these humans, was I turning into them? No. She was here and I had a dead body in the living room. This body that shall be broken to feed this hungry soul.  As I peeled off the cling film, the phoenix emerged. Couple more weeks and it would have looked more magnificent.

Now all she will be is a beauty to hang on the wall back home.

 

 

Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this, Inside Out might be your cup of tea too! :D

On a 9 to 5 day.