"Why am I wandering these streets by my own on such a lonely night?, I've eventually escaped from my misery, gathered all the leftovers of bravery that was shattered a long time ago and ran from what've I thought was destiny. Sir, to me this is the only night I have tasted the sweet, tender taste of victory. These hands that just helped you carry the boxes, have held drugs, weapons, and even shot other people. I am running from Sin after all the gates of rescue has shut in front of my face"
"Apparently for me, sleep ain't that much of a smooth activity" I replied with a half whispering voice hoping that he would catch the somewhat hidden message between my words, I raised my eyes directing them towards the old man's and I was surprised by the open look he had on his face.
As soon as he caught my glare, his eyes were instantly colored by a darker shade as if attempting to hide a strange desire or taming a vague sudden wave of fiery emotions. the slight breeze caused his beard to move a bit, We were surrounded by silence and I couldn't exactly tell if it was the comfortable one since my eyes began scanning the rest of his visible facial features and all that I was certain of was, that deep wrinkles were covering the smiling lines of his cheeks along with other ones in the middle of them, hence based on these lines decorating his face I concluded one thing which was, this man is surely from the smiling type
And I won't say the happy nor the positive type, because there might be no exact reason behind one's smile just as there could be plenty. A smile at least that's how I think about it, Is way more flexible than what most people think it signifies, sometimes a weapon and other times a shelter.
I didn't realize how far I got caught in my thoughts until the old man abruptly took my shivering left hand, the one which was outside of my coat pocket, and I sensed paper being tucked within its grip.
"Boy oh boy, how you remind me of the rebel I was back in the day, I see you, son .." his words broke the thick silence, and I felt another storm of shivers dancing its way upon my spine. Joy and reminiscence glowed from the tone he used and I couldn't help but wonder about what kind of young men he used to be? And was he pleased by those vivid memories he holds very dearly? his grip was still tightly placed upon my left hand as he continued pushing the paper further within. As if making sure that it won't escape my hand. I knew what was being tucked within. The green papers, the ones that drove some people to sell their souls to the devil just to have full bags of them sitting where they live... waiting endlessly to be spent on non-other than ephemeral "stuff".
Surely, fine rays of warmth covered my skin as I tightened my grip both around the money and the old man's wrinkled hand, Our eyes met for the second time since we have met. And that single glare he had
One glare enough to speak thousands of words, and as if all the laws of physics fell apart, a gripping sensation overwhelmed my vision as I realized the wrinkles spreading across his face gradually faded revealing a much toned younger face, peachy cheeks sprinkled by light freckles his eyes become brighter, and his stomach shrank flat until eventually the body facing me was no longer of an old man. But rather a young teenager, just like me.
Is this what they call an alternate reality? Where all that is supposed to make sense suddenly melts into completely new laws? Or is it the urge to discover what is it that is captivating about me that has reminded him of his younger version to the point where I am ... seeing it? Or directly ... Is this one of my heavy sleepless nights?
Uncountable questions ran my head straight through my consciousness. My left hand began violently shaking and gradually turned into a numb piece of flesh then soon followed my whole body. The scene was too surreal to describe let alone actually endure. Yet for a split of second my awareness of my surroundings, the dark empty streets, and the buzz of random flies flying by the neon signs weakened up to the point where the only thing which captured and somehow carved my memory was the
YOU ARE READING
Tales From Sin City (Completed)
Short StoryPrologue : "We all lived in one city, we shared the same sky, we heard the same cacophonic sounds everyday. But we have different stories. Maybe the city took from us more than it gave, or maybe we lost ourselves amid the process. Who are we? We...
