Tuesday, December 13, 2016

The Mysterious Figures in the Park

I spirit down the street past Hallow Park to the bench where I slept a few nights before, remembering that possibly my keys were under the bench. They must have fallen out of my purse due to the of the giant hole in the side I failed to notice. I can’t believe that I didn’t think about the slit in my purse that traps most of the content in my bag, and realize that the cut had finally made it’s way to the bottom of my bag ripping through completely, and dumping almost everything out of it as I was walking. I really should have gotten that fixed.

I reach the park, but could barely see because of fog that swallowed everything around me. I couldn’t see worth a damn, let alone remember where that stupid bench was. In the distance, I could make out the bench but standing between the path were two shadowy figures. As I approached closer to the shadows a knot formed in the pit of my stomach. Something didn’t feel right, but I wasn’t sure what. It was eerily quiet until the silence was broken by the blast of one of the figures voices, booming as loud as the sound of thunder that’s followed by a violent streak of lightning.

I jumped what I’m sure looked like 5 feet into the air. The hair on my arms stood up, and my head jerked back violently. My whole body propelling into the air, falling like a rag doll to the ground, and landing on my back with a loud THUD. My head ached, and spine cracked. With the wind completely knocked out of me I violently gasped releasing air back into my lungs. Confused I lay on the ground for a minute or two as I try and process what had just happened. I didn’t understand what the figure shrieked at me so expressively, “Your great good fortune, true, it was your ruin.” Whatever ‘great good fortune’ he was referring to obviously didn’t apply to me.

I finally get enough composure to stand up, wobbly still, I make my way around the figures but keep my distance. As soon as my legs regain strength I sprint to the bench. Hurriedly I look underneath feeling the ground all around the bench. In the process of frantically trying to get the hell out of the park, I scraped my hands on the concrete causing little red cuts to form on the surface of my hand, and tiny drops of blood begin to flow out. I’m about to give up when my hand grazes against sharp metal. I rip the metal out of the crack in the sidewalk to discover my keys! Finally, I didn’t have to sleep on the park bench, I had never been more relieved in my life, or so I thought.