‘We’re closing up now Jim’ I say to the daily ale guzzler, sitting (mostly laying) on the decaying wooden stools of George’s Inn. He groans his disapproval as he staggers out into the shadowing car park.
Living so close to the city centre is a blessing in disguise. Walking everywhere is great and saves petrol, except the nights walking home alone catch me unexpectedly every now and then. Like tonight.
Usually I would walk on the left, because the footpath is a lot less cracked and bumpy but tonight I wanted to experience life, and so I was to walk on the right. Tonight seems especially still and warm, unusual for June, but who can complain? I watch my shadow follow me along the walls of the local restaurant, like a poor salesman wanting his first sale of the night. Surprising me, I notice a second darker, broader outline, at least 6 steps behind me. Looking straight ahead I pretend not to notice and quicken my short steps. Hoping he is just a man in a hood making his way to the last pub open till 2am on a Tuesday, I turn around to confront him (or her). All I see is the footprints that my boots have made.
Around the corner I catch my breath as I contemplate my next move. Maybe he has forgotten about me or didn’t see me turn this corner. I am too close to home to call for help but I dread that short 10 metre walk into my apartment foyer. My mind ticks over future outcomes of my life living as a hostage in a dank apartment or being killed and left to rot in the alleyway to my right. Except the man walks straight past me and my apartment block, stops for a few seconds to readjust his shoe, flips his hood on and continues down the path. I feel my heart has paused, a feeling I’ve only ever felt twice before in my short life. To make myself feel safer I wait a few more minutes to make sure I have a kidnap free walk to my home. I lean against the damp scratching brick wall of the alleyway praying he has actually lost me. Except when I peak around the corner, I discover Hoodie has come back and is peaking through the foyer window. Tonight I am glad Landon has finally made the time to lock up early. He breathes heavily creating a mist of fog which makes the rusted window even harder to see through. What feels like a few hours, has actually been minutes and he eventually surrenders his pursuit.
How did I end up here? Hoodie seems to be leading me straight towards the place I feel safest which confuses and scares me. After watching him leave my apartment foyer, my curiosity came out to play, as I have always fell prey to. Making sure to step in the same footprints as him and staying at least 10 metres behind, I begin an entertaining, yet lethal game of follow the leader. He does not seem to notice he is being followed, walking along the cold streets at… 3am. He suddenly turns sharply into a side alley and I stop uncontrollably. Should I just go back home and forget about this? I finally see my surroundings and do not recognise the dog, asleep and thoughtful lying on a back step, or the tyre swing hanging from an old Jurupa Oak tree. This new place in town, that I have never seen nor heard of before, is frightening yet thrilling, knowing I have no clue which way home is. Hoodie has gone through what seems to be a door to an apartment similar to my own. I have come too far not to follow, so waiting a few minutes I casually walk up to the door and push the handle. What is first overwhelming is the smell of gas. So much gas I almost choke. My eyes finally adjust to the darkness consuming me and fall on the walls that are creeping in, slowly. Each space, each crevice of each brick is stained black, and what is displayed on every wall, every spare space in the room, are photographs of myself: Me when I was 3 wanting to ride the hippos at a trip to the zoo, my 5th birthday when Lana blew out my last candle, my sister Grace and I after we had our faces painted at the fair, my first dog and I at the shelter where we saved him, the day I had my braces taken off and pictures of everyday in between. A spark catches my eye and races up a curtain to my left. Slowly pictures start burning, one by one as I am trapped by the memories of my life.
