I shuffled over to my easy chair, not even bothering to turn on the lights, exhausted from the long shift at work. I allow the cozy and worn leather of the chair to hug every sore limb of my body like a warm hug. Yeah, I'd like a nice big hug right about now, but the need vanishes when I hear the multiple snores of my family above me.
Sigh.
Maybe next time.
I turn on the tv, making sure to keep the volume nice and low so I don't wake anyone up. The blue and white glare illuminates the living room; Bathing the room in a pale flickering glow, reminding me of one of those old black and white movies. I flipped through the channels, looking for something nice and mind numbing to watch so I could go to sleep. My weary attention landed on the news.
African American man dies at the hands of New York police officer.
I turn up the volume just a bit, so I could hear the report. The man in question was apparently arrested for selling cigarettes off a street corner. There was a struggle and he died during it. Cause of death was strangulation. The news anchor then puts up a video of the struggle. The man's about my size, though a little wider then me. The take down is swift, even though the man didn't even have a weapon. The man falls to the ground with a shout; The officer's beefy arm is wrapped round his neck in a choke hold. I shake my head; Even a hundred years later, it still goes on. I'm about to change the channel when I hear it:
"I can't breathe!"
A dry and scared voice comes from the man on the ground. I must sadly admit that I am normally pretty numb to violence like this. I'd blame it on the normalization of bloodshed and battery in this world. But something about what he said made my heart start beating a little faster. I continue to stare at the man, feeling unnerved but unable to look away. The man's eyes were bulging from his sockets.
From suffocation?
From fear?
I have no clue. The milky whites of his orbs are shimmering like the surface of a puddle during a cloudy day. I can see the tears cascading down his ebony skin as he desperately struggles for air. Each breath drags their thin bodies into his lungs. Coming in but its not enough. Not enough to strengthen thinning lungs, who cells were slowly shriveling.
"I can't breathe! Please, I can't breathe!"
His words sounded pressured and squeezed like he was a piece of paper trying to speak from a printing press. I could tell that the cop was using a hold that most are trained to never use; But judging from his look, he didn't seem to care.
"I can't breathe!"
A chill went up my spine.
"I can't breathe!"
The blood in my veins rushed through my body, like cars on a freeway. A slow pounding rang in my ears, dull and quick.
"I can't breathe!"
My vision began to swim.
"I can't breathe!"
I felt a sharp pressure on my neck; Like something was....
"I can't breathe!"
I could feel my air pipe narrowing; I began to draw in labored breaths. I can't get enough air. My lungs are burning; I can feel a fire spreading in my chest, making each breath a painful torture to draw in.
"I can't breathe!"
Why won't he listen?
"I can't breathe!"
Get off him!
"I can't breathe!"
"I can't breathe!"
"I can't breathe!"
"I can't breathe!"
"I can't breathe!"
" George?"
I jumped from the chair with a start, banging my knees into the coffee table and looked behind me. It was just my wife. She stared at me; Her brow furrowing like it always does when she's concerned. " You ok?" I rubbed the back of my neck, slightly embarrassed for waking her up. I was still shaking and my body was soaked with sweat. Was that real? I turned back towards the T.v. The news was over. There was just a insurance commercial on. I pulled myself together best I could; I didn't want to worry her.
"Yeah, I'm good. Just go back to bed. I'll catch up later."
She nodded, her eyes aglow with skepticism, but she walked back up stairs anyway. I took a deep breath and looked back to the T.V That video. It felt so real and lasted so long. I touched my neck tenderly; I didn't want whatever it was to happen again. That couldn't have been real. The way they zoomed up on that guy's face and that feeling.... It must have been a nightmare.
I shook it off and started to walk back up to where my wife was waiting; My rational mind numbing the soft tinkling of dread that still echoed in my mind.
Yeah, just a nightmare.
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Note: This story was inspired by the murders of George Floyd and Eric Garner. The unnerving similarities between these two men's death was what drove me to write this piece. There is no purer horror then the horror of reality.
Eric Garner: July 17, 2014
George Floyd: May 25, 2020
God help us all.
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Odd Wanderings
HorrorAs the title implies this is a collection of some of my stories. Some will be little experiments in other genres and styles. Be kind with the criticism.