Kidding Me

Chapter 4

   Some things in this world are out of place, and as a consequence, are then not appreciated to the extent they deserve. One of these many example would be profound statements in Children's books. I read a book when I was younger with the following summation:

"I belive, the universe is as huge as it is, so that we, on earth, don't feel so far apart"

   Okay, so that may not have been the exact words, but it was something along those lines. The story was about a girl who's best friend was moving to the other side of the world. She had also been feeling very small in comparison to the expanse of universe, and so finally decided that.

   My best friend, however, only lived down the road. It did, however feel like a whole universe separating us. We weren't next door to each other, but we weren't a car journey away.

   I had to get some stamps for mum, so dad and I went home via the old post office. Unfortunately, neither if us had been to it before. Who sends letters anymore? We were certain it was off at the next left. Or was it right? We went down countless forgotten roads before we found the contrasting red sign, hanging boldly against the black and white background, in which it was immersed. A background which was more black than white. I pondered how this building had escaped the fait of those around it. Smashed windows wherever possible, broken bottles at every curb and the lingering smell of violence. It just hung there. The smell. It hung like the sign, just more noticeable and like it wanted to be acknowledged. How brutality had gone unacknowledged could only be put down to the lack of inhabitants. No one was around. Not a soul.

   Nervously, I walked up towards the shopfront. A blood red layer of careless paint, was peeled away to reveal a cold black: not very inviting. As unappealing as the prospect of going into the dingy relic was, I had the quest of bringing back some stupid stamps and I had to do it; who knows what depths of hell would be unleashed if I didn't. Stupid stamps.

   I watched my fingers silently, slip around the door handle and immediately the cold of the iron sent icicles chilling through the tips of my skin. Firming my grip, I grasped the metal once more, applied more pressure, and turned it. A sudden gush of wind pushed at me as I did so, causing me to shiver.

    Cautious steps, squeaky floor and dim lighting. A single, shaft of light ran through the centre of the relic. Leaving an eery trail of delicate dust and a highlight of the lack of light elsewhere. The black and white was now grey. The kind of grey that would make you believe everything in the room (including what could, quite possibly, be an old lady staring at me, not that there's anything else to look at) wanted to be forgotten. I was walking onto a set of an old film that was frozen in time and now all it wanted was to be forgotten and left to rot peacefully.

   It was out of place here, in our world, and I was out of place here in it's.

   Stamps, right.

    "Hello?" My shaken voice spilt out nervously. I couldn't even hear if the old lady was breathing, so there was only my breath as a reply. My words had flown out my mouth, laid across the air and moved on as of they were never there.

   In answer to the silence, there came a scream. A soul piercing scream, that had the power to flip my emotions from scared and nervous, to terrified and frantic, in split seconds. No last words, just a scream.

   I left the silence and automatically ran towards the low-toned yell in the other direction. It's funny, the amount of time it took me to get from the car and the time it took me to get back. The journey time was probably cut by more than in half. On arrival of the crime scene, it looked like your average old man waiting patiently in his bashed up two door hatched back, obviously closer inspection was required.

   The first thing to hit me was the smell. Violence waiting to be committed was replace with violence that had - blood.