Thursday, April 13, 2006

Allan was jolted up from his slumber, his mind twirling trying to remember where he was and what he was doing. His eyes never stopped rolling recording the surrounding of his office. His computer was still lit just the way he left it. It was dark in the wee hours in the morning, he must have dozed off while writing his article. An article about spirits, lost spirits trapped in time enduring the trauma that unfolds over and over again leading to their tragic death.

He heard a knock on the door and then a faint cry. It sounds like a child whimpering behind his locked door. The knocks sounded again, it sounded desperate as if she wanted in. He stood up perspiring from the spoilt ai conditioning of his office. He slowly made his way to the door doubting whether the knocks truly existed or were they the result of his semi conscious state. The door suddenly flung open and the intruder entered. She was dressed in red clutching her teddy bear close to her chest. Her watery eyes and sobs gave clues that she was very much distressed and frantically in need of help. Allan wasted no time, he shut the door and pushed his desk blocking the entrance. Certainly something was in search of this intruder that is now in his very office.

She lay crouched in the corner shivering even as he walked towards her. He moved slowly not wanting to frighten her even further with his existence. Her hair covered her small head and it was difficult to see her face. She was in a mess, her clothes torn in small areas and from where he stood, bruises and cuts surfaced on her skin. It shocked him as to what had happened to this poor girl. He squatted down in front of her brushing off her hair from her face. Her eyes stared back at him fiery red, it was not anger he saw but fear in her eyes. Frightened and terrified of the stranger that is in front of her knowing that she lay helpless without the means of protecting herself. She gripped tight to her toy a whimper escaped her clenched mouth.

The door tore open pieces of wood flying all around. Allan almost turned deaf with the deafening boom of the gunshot. He did not stay around for long to find out who was the author of it all. He sensed danger was on its way and it is not favourable to stay put. Dragging the child with one arm he roamed around in his office for a place to hide. He figured his cupboard was the best option, for now. Footsteps approached their hiding place, the child still shivering from fear. A pair of feet emerged at the doorstep of the office. Almost effortlessly the gunman pushed his way in moving the furniture that blocked his way. From the little slab of the cupboard door, Allan lais eyes on the hunter. He looked around, searching, taking his time stalking his prey. Allan wasted no time in waiting to be found, he made a dash for the door and in turn almost got his head blown off by the shotgun of the hunter.

He was out now free to run and escape from the clutches of the hunter. He was at the stairs when he heard another shot unleashed from the destructive weapon. It sounded distant and it did not take long to guess what had happened. The girl, the cupboard, the hunter, the gun. Allan was stuck in place trying to figure out what to do. He had two choices, one, save his life and run to the nearest police station where he would be safe, two, go back into the office hoping the girl is still alive and somehow save her from the hunter. He chose the latter and running into the office his mind still twirling with the reason to why he did not save his own life. No reason could make up for what he saw next. Sprawled on the floor of his face in a pool of blood, the child laid still. He slowly approached the lifeless body squatted on the floor knowing not what to do. He felt anger running through his veins, angry at himself for dashing out, angry at the hunter for taking her life.

Realisation was too late. The hunter was laying in wait for his next victim. With the gun pointed to his head, Allan heard a click.

Allan was jolted from his slumber, his mind twirling trying to remember where he was and what he was doing. His eyes never stopped rolling recording the surrounding of his office. His computer was still lit just the way he left it. It was dark in the wee hours in the morning, he must have dozed off while writing his article. An article about spirits, lost spirits trapped in time
enduring the trauma that unfolds over and over again leading to their tragic death.

posted by: mfirdie @ 2:13 AM

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