I Cannot believe we'd ever die for these sins.
“As long as you keep getting born, it‘s alright to die some times”- Orson Scott Card
The sound of brakes was the first thing that caught his attention, but he never had time to turn as blunt force hit him mid waist. The power of the blow sent his sent down into the hood before his feet went tumbling up over his head. Then there was shattering glass, before he was bouncing off the roof and into the air.
He could clearly remember for a moment, how the stars glittered brighter than they had ever done so before. It was as if time stopped for that brief moment to take a picture, allow him time to study the way tiny specks of light tired to be seen through the glare of city lights before he hit the ground with a crack.
“Oh God!…oh God, I…Oh GOD!” He could hear a woman screaming, “oh God, Peter! Peter…You hit him, oh God, you killed him. Oh…”
“Liz, Lizzy!…Oh my God, Lizzy get in the car.”
“You killed him!”
“Get in the car Lizzy! God damnit, he’s dead…Lizzy, Lizzy I’m drunk.”
“You killed him!”
Her screams faded as the world fade, dark blood curling about his face as his eyes dimmed. Dead? Heh…He couldn’t remember what made that statement sound so ironic, but it was. As if it were a contradiction of something he had always known, and yet it wasn’t coming to mind at the moment. How odd. Shouldn’t that have been something he would remember?
His eyes closed as a horn screamed, and doors slammed shut. The last sound he heard was the peeling of tires as the car took off. Away. Weren’t they supposed to wait?
He hit his head as he jerked up suddenly, sending a sharp jolt of pain down his body as he fell back. The metal table he was laying on was decidedly uncomfortable, though he couldn’t understand why he was laying on it. Worse yet was that his feet hit something hard, and his arms moved in the cramped space to fine the hard metal all around him. He was nude, save for a sheet that was draped over his mid section, not that it mattered he supposed. The box was barely big enough for him…
“Wha….what…Let me…” He said softly at first, before slapping at the metal with more force. “Let me out! Get me out!” A panic started in the pit of his stomach, hands reaching for anything only to find a cold, smooth surface. “Let me out!” He screamed louder, slamming his feet down as well. “Let me out!”
The panic grew, like a serpent it curled around him, squeezing tighter with each scream, ever failed attempt to escape his nightmare. By the time the door flung itself open his body was quiver, but not from the cold. Shaky hands shot out of the hole, and braced against more smooth metal as he pulled himself from his grave and gasped for air he hadn’t really needed.
The light flooded in from all sides as the stumbled and fell out of his hole with a lack of grace. The hushed ‘this isn’t possible’ murmurs doing little to distract him from his escape until he feet were firmly planted on 1980s linoleum flooring. The cloth sheet fell uselessly to the floor as he looked down. His torso had a giant ‘Y’ stapled down it, dried blood rimming the edge where it had continued to seep out.
“Are….are you alright?” Someone asked, reaching out to touch him.
“His hair…” someone else started, “its grown back.”
“Sir, are you alright?”
He looked at them through dark hair as he watched them stare at him in bewilderment. He’d never been here…
“Sir what’s your name?”
Where was home? Was it far?…He was hungry.
“He looks like an angel, and now he’s alive again. Sweet Jesus…” The woman made the sign of the cross, before lifting a rosary to her lips. Red lips. Hungry… The attack was swift as he snapped the man’s neck and grabbed for the woman. Her screams echoed off the empty, blank walls. It was as if God and Satan were both cut off from this place…whatever place it was. And with each blood of blood, everything closed in, pushing against him in some way he couldn’t explain except to say it was familiar, right down to the way her body slumped before falling to the floor in a slow, elegant tumble.
Taking some clothing from a room full of metal cabinets, he walked out into the city with a blank stare. What was this place?
===
William Percy Hastings
OC
772 words
The sound of brakes was the first thing that caught his attention, but he never had time to turn as blunt force hit him mid waist. The power of the blow sent his sent down into the hood before his feet went tumbling up over his head. Then there was shattering glass, before he was bouncing off the roof and into the air.
He could clearly remember for a moment, how the stars glittered brighter than they had ever done so before. It was as if time stopped for that brief moment to take a picture, allow him time to study the way tiny specks of light tired to be seen through the glare of city lights before he hit the ground with a crack.
“Oh God!…oh God, I…Oh GOD!” He could hear a woman screaming, “oh God, Peter! Peter…You hit him, oh God, you killed him. Oh…”
“Liz, Lizzy!…Oh my God, Lizzy get in the car.”
“You killed him!”
“Get in the car Lizzy! God damnit, he’s dead…Lizzy, Lizzy I’m drunk.”
“You killed him!”
Her screams faded as the world fade, dark blood curling about his face as his eyes dimmed. Dead? Heh…He couldn’t remember what made that statement sound so ironic, but it was. As if it were a contradiction of something he had always known, and yet it wasn’t coming to mind at the moment. How odd. Shouldn’t that have been something he would remember?
His eyes closed as a horn screamed, and doors slammed shut. The last sound he heard was the peeling of tires as the car took off. Away. Weren’t they supposed to wait?
He hit his head as he jerked up suddenly, sending a sharp jolt of pain down his body as he fell back. The metal table he was laying on was decidedly uncomfortable, though he couldn’t understand why he was laying on it. Worse yet was that his feet hit something hard, and his arms moved in the cramped space to fine the hard metal all around him. He was nude, save for a sheet that was draped over his mid section, not that it mattered he supposed. The box was barely big enough for him…
“Wha….what…Let me…” He said softly at first, before slapping at the metal with more force. “Let me out! Get me out!” A panic started in the pit of his stomach, hands reaching for anything only to find a cold, smooth surface. “Let me out!” He screamed louder, slamming his feet down as well. “Let me out!”
The panic grew, like a serpent it curled around him, squeezing tighter with each scream, ever failed attempt to escape his nightmare. By the time the door flung itself open his body was quiver, but not from the cold. Shaky hands shot out of the hole, and braced against more smooth metal as he pulled himself from his grave and gasped for air he hadn’t really needed.
The light flooded in from all sides as the stumbled and fell out of his hole with a lack of grace. The hushed ‘this isn’t possible’ murmurs doing little to distract him from his escape until he feet were firmly planted on 1980s linoleum flooring. The cloth sheet fell uselessly to the floor as he looked down. His torso had a giant ‘Y’ stapled down it, dried blood rimming the edge where it had continued to seep out.
“Are….are you alright?” Someone asked, reaching out to touch him.
“His hair…” someone else started, “its grown back.”
“Sir, are you alright?”
He looked at them through dark hair as he watched them stare at him in bewilderment. He’d never been here…
“Sir what’s your name?”
Where was home? Was it far?…He was hungry.
“He looks like an angel, and now he’s alive again. Sweet Jesus…” The woman made the sign of the cross, before lifting a rosary to her lips. Red lips. Hungry… The attack was swift as he snapped the man’s neck and grabbed for the woman. Her screams echoed off the empty, blank walls. It was as if God and Satan were both cut off from this place…whatever place it was. And with each blood of blood, everything closed in, pushing against him in some way he couldn’t explain except to say it was familiar, right down to the way her body slumped before falling to the floor in a slow, elegant tumble.
Taking some clothing from a room full of metal cabinets, he walked out into the city with a blank stare. What was this place?
===
William Percy Hastings
OC
772 words