Flooded

Part 2

Way to go, I thought bitterly to myself. You weren't careful enough. You got yourself followed, and by one of those nosy reporters, no less. No one but a person insanely curious would care a whit about me, and reporters were, by nature, insanely curious people.

I still didn't move. There was no way I was going to show myself to this girl.

"Please. I just want to talk to you," she said.

You just want to talk to me, do you? You want to know all about my life, and if it's a good story, you'll try to get it published, won't you? The poor homeless boy with the rough life in the town that was just flooded. I don't need your pity, or anyone else's. You'll never speak with me.

"I didn't mean to scare you," she said softly. "Why won't you come out?"

Hah! As if I'd ever be scared by the likes of her!

I was determined to wait until she had left. I had a lot of practice with standing still. I could wait, no matter how long she took to go.

After a pause, she said, "I'm just going to sit here until you come out, okay? I won't hurry you. You can go back to whatever you were doing."

Does she think I am a child? I wondered.

If she really was going to sit there until I came out, she'd be sitting there until daybreak. Actually, I'd have to be gone long before then. It wouldn't do for her to see my face. Maybe I could sneak out during the darkest part of night. Even if I did, I still had a couple hours of waiting. By then, a normal person would either be discouraged enough to go home, or asleep. I'd just have to wait and see if she was a normal person.

So I waited. The silence that took the place of her voice was loud. It seemed to amplify every existing sound. I heard the faint chirping of the last remaining summer crickets in the grass. Far away, a frog croaked, and further away, a bird sang its last song of day before it shut down for the night. I heard the girl's breath and the rustling of her clothes. Leaves rattled in a small breeze, and I could even hear the faint sloshing of the river from across town. My heartbeat was unusually loud, and my blood sang in my ears. Pages rustled from the direction of the girl, and a second later, I heard the faint scratching of a pencil on paper. It was not something I heard often. I wondered how she was writing. The night sky was purple and dark with clouds, but I could detect a faint glow coming from her direction. She must've had her eyelights on so she could read. That told me one thing about her: she wasn't poor. Not that I hadn't already known that.

I wondered how much time had passed. It could've been five minutes or twenty. I had no way of knowing.

My legs were getting a little tired from standing still for so long. I wondered if she'd notice if I sat down. I wondered if she'd notice if I left now. I didn't move.

Time during the day seems to run differently than time during the night. During the day it seems steadier. Now, it just seems to slip away in fluctuating amounts.

Eventually, the scratching of the pencil stopped. There was more rustling from the pages, and then that stopped too. There was the sound of cloth against cloth, and a small scraping, as though something sort of heavy was being dragged across a small area of the ground. The glow had disappeared. Maybe she was laying down. If she had a backpack of some sort, she'd be using that as a pillow. She might fall asleep. But why would she sleep out here? I'm sure she had someplace else to stay the night. Was she really that desperate for a story?

Time passed. The reporter's breathing evened out and slowed down, and I knew she had fallen asleep. I did not know anyone yet who could fake the true breathing of a deep sleep. I waited around ten more minutes, then took a cautious step. It felt good to move my legs again. There were pins and needles in my feet that I'd have to walk out, but I didn't mind. I rather like that feeling. I took another step. The girl's breathing did not change.

I walked carefully and quietly out of the mess and started off in the direction of my newly chosen sleeping place. Rooftops really are amazing things, if you can find a flat one. Plus, of course, you have to be able to get to it. Trees are handy for that sort of thing. The stars are much more visible from the roof of a house, and sometimes the heat from the house can be felt seeping through the concrete. On hot nights, there's usually a cool breeze. The only potential problem is rain, in which case you must find a covered sleeping place. Thankfully, the skies emptied themselves of rain last week, and now they have no more to give.

I quickly scaled the tree next to my rooftop and swung myself onto the roof. I wondered what the girl would think when she woke in the morning to find me gone. She'd probably be disappointed, but she'd get over it. I was safe from discovery, and that's all that mattered. 

***

That's it. That's the story. It's a short one...not one of my best, but I still like it. Yep...if you haven't noticed, a lot of my stories have open endings. I find it difficult to actually completely resolve a story so short. Many of my short stories could be turned into short novels if I wanted to do that. But I don't, so you're stuck with the open endings. Feel free to tell me what you think could happen next, if there were to be more to the story!

So, I saved the greeting for after the message (just because I felt like it. No other reason.)

     Hi Astrien! I haven't heard from you in a while. How's school?

     Hey, mavkrook18 and 3MrsOLeary3, what part are you guys at in your shows?

     Hello Summercub2 and Katjade92! Thanks for continuing to support me! 

     And salutations to any new readers out there! I'd love it if you checked out some of my other stories!

Love you all!!! :)