When Opportunity Knocks

Story

        Running faster than ever, I begin to loathe the people in the cars much more everyday. Although the knife is not as jagged as I hope it to be, it should still do the trick. I throw the knife behind me without looking, and pray that it made a direct hit. My hair emerges from under my hat where I had hidden it. It is longer than I remember it to be, but of course I’ve been in disguise for so long, it’s so hard to remember the last time I let my hair flow in the wind such as it decides to do so now.

I turn down an alleyway, thinking that I might lose them, but it is not my lucky day. They still remain behind me, closer then ever. I commence to renounce this long and tiresome chase, but they have decided to give up before this ghastly idea even creeps into my brain.

            I scud around a corner and muse about why they would stop the chase so close to victory. They have been concocting on how to capture me for so long now, I’m surprised they didn’t do anything in order to get to me. I’m so utterly perplexed, I can’t think as to why they would do such a thing.

As I arrive at my destination, I begin my steadfast climb. On some occasions, this climb seems to last forever; this is one of these occasions. Aloft on the roof, my roof, I feel free as a bird. I wish I was a bird, that way I could fly away from this terrible place that is New York City.

I begin to intently sharpen one of my knives. I try to focus all of my attention on my knife, for the last one was much duller than I would ever wish for it to be; the knife that was thrown at my pursuers. But it’s so hard when so much is going on. I mean, why didn’t they continue to chase me? Was it…part of their plan? Yes, that must be it! As I come to this conclusion, I hear the sirens. They are so close that my mind becomes a torrent. I rush to get off the roof, but first I must grab as many knives as the inside pocket of my jacket will store.

After I have grabbed my knives, I begin my decent back to the ground. The climb downward is ten times as awful as the climb upward. I must be punctilious with my footing, or one wrong move could send me falling to my death.

No matter how careful I have to be, I must also be fast. As I quickly attempt my decent, I slip and begin to fall. I am not worried though, because I quickly grasp the pole that sticks out off the side of the building. After five years of being alone in the big city, you get to know the lucky spots that can save your life.

Once I am low enough to fall to the ground without spilling my blood everywhere, I jump and, as always, stick the landing. I turn and run in the other direction before they realize I had escaped in the nick of time.

As I run to find a makeshift roof to nestle in for the night, I begin to think of home, with the delicious smells coming from the kitchen and the wonderful music playing in the den. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I were to venture back to my family. When I was ten I actually tried to, but I couldn’t get past the city limits without a car, train, or boat. I am petrified of trains and boats, so you can see where my hatred for cars comes from.

As I walk along, I realize that night is beginning to fall. There’s no way I’ll be able to find a comfortable roof by the time it’s pitch-black. I find a bench and I decide to bunk there for the night. Of course, as soon as I wake up, I’m going to go and see if I’m able to return to my roof. But as soon as I sit down, I realize that I’m quite nauseous and much more tired than usual at this time. I decide it must be from the adrenaline of the night. I lay my head down and as soon as I know it, I’m fast asleep.

I awaken quite tired, and when I open my eyes I am greeted by the face of another human being. I scream and try to run away in terror, but he holds me back. I am so scared, wondering if these are my last few seconds of freedom.