Random
A man walked amongst the crowd of drunkards, druggies, kleptomaniacs, manic depressants and schizophrenics. He knew them all too well. A place where he had once been, a place he had never hope to go to again. The Battle Royale Arena was buzzing more tonight than on most nights. There was something different in the air. An extra ingredient to the blood curdling violence, rape and malevolence. He waded through the scores of unwashed transients. Toothless grins surrounded by blackened faces. Hopeless eyes fixated anxiously on the cage for the next match. Tonight’s quick fix was on the line for many of these men. The difference between an emotion of life or death.
One of the many addicts watched as this man made his way amongst the crowd. The addict decided to give chase. From the addict’s point of view, it seemed as if there was a beacon of light from Heaven itself pointing down at this man. Curiosity grabbed hold of the addict and it was as if he were being pulled toward the man. As he shuffled closer, his arthritis ridden hands reached out and grabbed the man on the shoulders. His unkept beard crawling with lice and nits, his black toothed grin beaming as the man turned around.
“You,” the addict started, almost in wonder. “I... I know who you are... you’re...”
The addict looked up at the man, who’s eyes seemed transcendent to anything else in his world. “You must be mistaking me for someone else,” the man reassured the addict and turned to keep walking.
“Wait!” The addict shouted out. A few hopeless souls turned their bodies to face the current situation. “There’s a light! There’s a light following you! It’s like you’re an angel!”
The man looked around, he saw that he was in the same dimly lit consortium as everyone else. A few of the others laughed at the addict and his delusions of grandeur. “An angel,” he mused to himself. “If I’m an angel, then where are my wings?”
The addict’s eyes mimicked that of a puppy dog’s. Infinitely curious, but ultimately there was nothing in them or behind them. The man stood ten feet from the addict, who was reaching a gnarled hand out, trying to make contact with his new found angel. The addict’s vacant stare fixed on the man. Onlookers moved, creating a circle between the addict and his new drug. His outstretched farmer’s tanned arms pulled back at his tattered t-shirt, revealing two sickening, ghastly black holes in the crux of his elbows. He shuffled his bare feet toward the man. Working closer to him slowly, the man did not move.
“You are an angel!” The addict shouted, drawing more laughs. “I know you! I’ve seen you!”
The man shook his head and turned around, beginning to walk away. The circle of filth began to part, but the man turned back toward the addict. He had knelt down to the ground, almost in disbelief that he was being denied what he thought was true. The man clasped his hand over the addict’s and whispered into his ear.
“A fallen angel.”
The addict closed his eyes and gritted his decaying teeth hard. Tears escaped his eyes and rolled down his dirt-filled cheeks, leaving a new path of skin, almost clean. The man let go of the addict’s hand as he knelt before him crying like an infant. The addict got to his feet and opened his eyes, hoping for one last glimpse.
The addict’s eyes adjusted to the light and his savior had gone. Just like the addict’s entire life had been. All that had been promising and all that had been wanted. It was all fleeting.
One of the many addicts watched as this man made his way amongst the crowd. The addict decided to give chase. From the addict’s point of view, it seemed as if there was a beacon of light from Heaven itself pointing down at this man. Curiosity grabbed hold of the addict and it was as if he were being pulled toward the man. As he shuffled closer, his arthritis ridden hands reached out and grabbed the man on the shoulders. His unkept beard crawling with lice and nits, his black toothed grin beaming as the man turned around.
“You,” the addict started, almost in wonder. “I... I know who you are... you’re...”
The addict looked up at the man, who’s eyes seemed transcendent to anything else in his world. “You must be mistaking me for someone else,” the man reassured the addict and turned to keep walking.
“Wait!” The addict shouted out. A few hopeless souls turned their bodies to face the current situation. “There’s a light! There’s a light following you! It’s like you’re an angel!”
The man looked around, he saw that he was in the same dimly lit consortium as everyone else. A few of the others laughed at the addict and his delusions of grandeur. “An angel,” he mused to himself. “If I’m an angel, then where are my wings?”
The addict’s eyes mimicked that of a puppy dog’s. Infinitely curious, but ultimately there was nothing in them or behind them. The man stood ten feet from the addict, who was reaching a gnarled hand out, trying to make contact with his new found angel. The addict’s vacant stare fixed on the man. Onlookers moved, creating a circle between the addict and his new drug. His outstretched farmer’s tanned arms pulled back at his tattered t-shirt, revealing two sickening, ghastly black holes in the crux of his elbows. He shuffled his bare feet toward the man. Working closer to him slowly, the man did not move.
“You are an angel!” The addict shouted, drawing more laughs. “I know you! I’ve seen you!”
The man shook his head and turned around, beginning to walk away. The circle of filth began to part, but the man turned back toward the addict. He had knelt down to the ground, almost in disbelief that he was being denied what he thought was true. The man clasped his hand over the addict’s and whispered into his ear.
“A fallen angel.”
The addict closed his eyes and gritted his decaying teeth hard. Tears escaped his eyes and rolled down his dirt-filled cheeks, leaving a new path of skin, almost clean. The man let go of the addict’s hand as he knelt before him crying like an infant. The addict got to his feet and opened his eyes, hoping for one last glimpse.
The addict’s eyes adjusted to the light and his savior had gone. Just like the addict’s entire life had been. All that had been promising and all that had been wanted. It was all fleeting.