Shadow of Death (One Shot)

Mental Chaos

I wouldn't deem this as merely being bad luck. More like a curse or something of the sort. The series of unfortunate events leading up to that day were a telltale sign that my life was probably set to end. Perhaps someone in the afterlife, such as my recent dearly departed grandmother, was beckoning me to join them.

I could have perished in an accident last month when my bike got into difficulty and I almost ended up under a tanker transporting petroleum. I could've died two weeks ago on my way home when I got caught in the middle of a drive by shooting. Not to mention how I could have been burned alive a few days ago when a dish towel caught fire on my stove... AND I got robbed at knife point in a store yesterday morning on my way to work. If those don't set the tone that death is chasing me, then I am not sure what does!

The last time I checked my watch it was thirty-five minutes past six. My bike was still at the mechanic, so I took the train home from work and decided to walk the rest of the way. It's just about twenty minutes walk, I told myself. Now I started to realize that was a very bad idea. When I was back on North Avenue the sky was overcast, so I surmised there might not be moonshine. It looked like after eight or so at night now that the rain had gotten heavier. Lightning flashed twice and the thunder clapped overhead. My umbrella wasn't doing me any good.

I was mostly shielding my left side -- the side where I was carrying my handbag. Because of yesterday's incident, I no longer owned a cellphone and I didn't get the chance to purchase one today. There was no way for me to get in touch with anyone until I got further down into the town. I sighed. Some shitty life I have.

"God, help me." I said aloud, my teeth chattering.

I was freezing! I needed somewhere to shelter. I looked across the street and saw an old bookstore being refurbished. I hurried to the other side of the road. Noticing the door was ajar, I pushed it back a bit further. There was only one light in what appeared to be a main room, with a staircase leading to the second floor. A very old rocking chair with three legs was in the far corner of the room beside an old radio.

A terrifying feeling washed over me as I reminded myself that I was alone. I really need to get out of here as soon as the rain gets lighter, I said in my head. I scanned the room. Looking up, I saw that the bulb was hanging from wires in the ceiling. The available lighting was minimal, but my eyes quickly adjusted and I was able to make out more of my surroundings. To my left, there was a passage leading to what seemed like a long bare corridor with several door frames. I slowly turned on my heels to my right, squinting to see the road through the wet glass. I couldn't make anything out, at all. I lifted my right arm to wipe a part of the blurred glass, but it was still difficult to see much of anything.

I started feeling uncomfortable, as if eyes were watching me. I turned around to scan the place again and that's when I saw a man at the top of the stairs, looking down at me. He was grinning, revealing the whitest and most crooked teeth that I've ever seen. As my eyes send the message to my brain, I gasped. He was holding an ax in his right hand and a rope in his left. My first instinct was to scream, but a huge lump held my voice down. The man set one foot on the first flight of stairs. I wanted to throw up, I wanted to scream, I wanted to urinate -- I didn't know what to do with myself. I felt as if I had lost my bearings.

I could feel all the hairs on my body stand at attention and shivering from the cold worsened my anxiety. My heart kept pounding thud, thud, thud and my teeth were still chattering. I didn't even realize that I was crying until a teardrop flowed down to my top lip. I spun and dashed towards the door. Holy shit! When did it close? I started shaking the door knob, aiming to force it open. I could hear him coming, slowly, because of the creaking floor board. He must be savouring the moment. Is this how I'm really gonna go out? I kicked the door and it swung back. I dashed outside into the darkness, sprinting down Sunrise Boulevard.

****

"Christina!"

"Christina!"

It registered that someone was shaking me, hard. I instantaneously shot up from the bed, then slowly eased back to recline.

As a bedside lamp came on, the voice asked, "Chrissy? Can you hear me?"

I recognized that it was John and I broke down, hollering.

"Shh, baby," He patted my head gently. "Shh, it was just a dream. I'm here."

The way I was shaking like a leaf, I couldn't respond even if I wanted to. I had been having nightmares four days straight, but that was the most extreme.

"I'm here," He said once more. This time he kissed my forehead and pulled me in closer again.

"I - I- I think..." I tried to say.

"It's ok, dear. You don't have to try talking now."

"It was so horrible."

"I'm sorry, Chris. I know it's very difficult for you and I wish I could get you out of your misery, but I can only be supportive."

He was right. There was nothing he could do but support me, and he has been very strong for me. "Babe," I rubbed my wrists where the cuts were. "I think I should probably take up your offer to see a therapist now."