[orig] Right in front of you
A short story originally written for Mirage 09-10 issue, with the theme apartment
Right in front you
The sound of sirens outside pulled me out of my meditative trance. When I opened my eyes, my roommate John had already run out of the room to check on it, leaving our window open. I stood up and walked to it, peering at the commotion downstairs. An ambulance was parked some yards away from the dormitory building’s door. The hysteric nun from the next-door ladies dormitory was at the other side, probably narrating the events to the policemen present. I could see John in the midst of curious people there as the medics rolled what appeared to be a guy, still in uniform, bleeding to death into the ambulance. A minute later, it drove away, leaving the policemen behind at the crime scene.
I closed the window softly, tugging the curtains closed as well. It had become much of a fad lately, these people being either beaten to death or outright murdered inside their own room. John was quite shaken up by this string of murders that he even added a new lock to our door. I, on the other hand, am still quite neutral about it. What was there to fear, anyway? We were of no fault, and I’m sure someone so bland and dull like John could barely attract anyone’s attention. The professors could barely recognize his existence, to be frank.
John returned to the room, his face still flushed and eyes so delirious no focus can be set. Customarily, I prompted him to speak up, knowing how much he was dying to just tell me what had happened, and how he was still so sure he might be next. A wonder it truly was, to witness someone being delusional all the while drowning himself in anxiety.
“You wouldn’t believe it!” he started with a wild hand gesture. “T-The strange, weird psychic kid from the Art block? Yeah, him! It was him! Completely got his neck slit!”
“Humor me, please,” I bluntly deadpanned him. John didn’t look offended at all with my reaction, as expected. Delusional, didn’t I tell you?
“Yeah? Well, you know what? They said it’s the same killer again! Totally going ballistic and apecrap on us! They even sent the detectives in! It was so cool, you know? I even get to ask for some protection, and some insurance, you know? Who knows I might really be the next one?”
And as usual, I rolled my eyes, turning away from him so I could attend to other worthier tasks, which wasn’t that hard to find.
“Oh, come on Zack! You never know the killer might strike tomorrow! Or-or next week! Or even later! Who knows he might be on a roll!”
“John, no serial killers would bother with you.”
“That’s what you think, Zack! That’s what you think! I swear to you and to every deity and saint and god that that killer is out for my blood!”
He stormed away without much of a fuss as I continued working on my much neglected report. Darkness blanketed the room, not truly much to my surprise, as I knew John didn’t really give a rat’s arse on whether or not I’m still working. Sometimes, I wonder if he’s truly psychotic. Delusional, maybe. He had this bad and annoying tendency of forgetting other people existed.
I must admit: his delusion sprees are just too much to the point that I lose my control and just want to strangle the air out of him. Pity he was never the next one on the list.
Right in front you
The sound of sirens outside pulled me out of my meditative trance. When I opened my eyes, my roommate John had already run out of the room to check on it, leaving our window open. I stood up and walked to it, peering at the commotion downstairs. An ambulance was parked some yards away from the dormitory building’s door. The hysteric nun from the next-door ladies dormitory was at the other side, probably narrating the events to the policemen present. I could see John in the midst of curious people there as the medics rolled what appeared to be a guy, still in uniform, bleeding to death into the ambulance. A minute later, it drove away, leaving the policemen behind at the crime scene.
I closed the window softly, tugging the curtains closed as well. It had become much of a fad lately, these people being either beaten to death or outright murdered inside their own room. John was quite shaken up by this string of murders that he even added a new lock to our door. I, on the other hand, am still quite neutral about it. What was there to fear, anyway? We were of no fault, and I’m sure someone so bland and dull like John could barely attract anyone’s attention. The professors could barely recognize his existence, to be frank.
John returned to the room, his face still flushed and eyes so delirious no focus can be set. Customarily, I prompted him to speak up, knowing how much he was dying to just tell me what had happened, and how he was still so sure he might be next. A wonder it truly was, to witness someone being delusional all the while drowning himself in anxiety.
“You wouldn’t believe it!” he started with a wild hand gesture. “T-The strange, weird psychic kid from the Art block? Yeah, him! It was him! Completely got his neck slit!”
“Humor me, please,” I bluntly deadpanned him. John didn’t look offended at all with my reaction, as expected. Delusional, didn’t I tell you?
“Yeah? Well, you know what? They said it’s the same killer again! Totally going ballistic and apecrap on us! They even sent the detectives in! It was so cool, you know? I even get to ask for some protection, and some insurance, you know? Who knows I might really be the next one?”
And as usual, I rolled my eyes, turning away from him so I could attend to other worthier tasks, which wasn’t that hard to find.
“Oh, come on Zack! You never know the killer might strike tomorrow! Or-or next week! Or even later! Who knows he might be on a roll!”
“John, no serial killers would bother with you.”
“That’s what you think, Zack! That’s what you think! I swear to you and to every deity and saint and god that that killer is out for my blood!”
He stormed away without much of a fuss as I continued working on my much neglected report. Darkness blanketed the room, not truly much to my surprise, as I knew John didn’t really give a rat’s arse on whether or not I’m still working. Sometimes, I wonder if he’s truly psychotic. Delusional, maybe. He had this bad and annoying tendency of forgetting other people existed.
I must admit: his delusion sprees are just too much to the point that I lose my control and just want to strangle the air out of him. Pity he was never the next one on the list.