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Mangled
A short story by Gareth Cranny.
As I rounded the corner onto Main Street, my legs already begging me to stop, I came to the abrupt conclusion that I wrong. While silently debating whether or not to go back the few short blocks I had walked, a meaty hand firmly clenched my shoulder.
“Excuse me sir, I’d Like you to come with me.”
Turning quickly to glance at my assailant, I was reminded of just how wrong I had been, for in front of me stood an officer of the law. The shine of his ID badge caught my eye, and too dumbfounded to reply, I simply walked wherever his strong arm directed me.
To say that I was dazed would have been like calling the heavy rain that was falling a drizzle. Everywhere I looked the lights were casting their garish glow directly into my eyes, everything I heard blended together to make a hideous opera-like song. And there, in the middle of the intersection at Queen and Strake Blvd was the grotesque monster that I had fled in cowardice. All thoughts within my head disappeared. How I came to stand in this very spot had been forgotten; the only though still in my head in a horrific cry “IT’S STARING AT ME!”
From its jagged window eyes to its crooked bumper smile, every molecule of the monster screamed at me to run.
Suddenly, through the confusion of noise, came the sound of little plastic wheels racing over the time worn surface of the road. Looking in their direction, I see a child screaming flailing its arms while a firefighter holds her back from running towards the monster. Oh how that little girl looks like my sweet granddaughter Amber, oh yes, sweet little Amber….
Visions of Amber become nothing but a sea of red as I look down upon a middle-aged woman, laying in clothes that soak up the rain and blood like a paper towel soaks up Kool Aid. My stomach clenched, pushing all that was inside up and through my mouth, burning every inch of my throat on it’s way, leaving me week and empty and falling to my knees. The asphalt stings though my slacks, travelling up to my hips where the pain explodes. The strong hand that had brought me here picks me up, and stands me against the trunk of a car that seems so familiar. I look down to the fluorescent stripes, the POLICE sticker in bright blue and start to remember my day a little clearer.
The guilt rips through me like the devil himself is trying to escape from the cavity of my chest, only to grab me by the neck and carry me to the gates of hell. But before I can complete my sadistic vision, the sound of metal clicking and the feel of cold steel clamping around my wrists brings me back to reality. I see another officer walking towards my assailant, a bottle of something in hand. As he nears, I can make out the classing markings of Jack Daniel’s own whiskey, and my assailant asks “In his car?”
“Yeah, and all over the seats too.”
Mangled
A short story by Gareth Cranny.
As I rounded the corner onto Main Street, my legs already begging me to stop, I came to the abrupt conclusion that I wrong. While silently debating whether or not to go back the few short blocks I had walked, a meaty hand firmly clenched my shoulder.
“Excuse me sir, I’d Like you to come with me.”
Turning quickly to glance at my assailant, I was reminded of just how wrong I had been, for in front of me stood an officer of the law. The shine of his ID badge caught my eye, and too dumbfounded to reply, I simply walked wherever his strong arm directed me.
To say that I was dazed would have been like calling the heavy rain that was falling a drizzle. Everywhere I looked the lights were casting their garish glow directly into my eyes, everything I heard blended together to make a hideous opera-like song. And there, in the middle of the intersection at Queen and Strake Blvd was the grotesque monster that I had fled in cowardice. All thoughts within my head disappeared. How I came to stand in this very spot had been forgotten; the only though still in my head in a horrific cry “IT’S STARING AT ME!”
From its jagged window eyes to its crooked bumper smile, every molecule of the monster screamed at me to run.
Suddenly, through the confusion of noise, came the sound of little plastic wheels racing over the time worn surface of the road. Looking in their direction, I see a child screaming flailing its arms while a firefighter holds her back from running towards the monster. Oh how that little girl looks like my sweet granddaughter Amber, oh yes, sweet little Amber….
Visions of Amber become nothing but a sea of red as I look down upon a middle-aged woman, laying in clothes that soak up the rain and blood like a paper towel soaks up Kool Aid. My stomach clenched, pushing all that was inside up and through my mouth, burning every inch of my throat on it’s way, leaving me week and empty and falling to my knees. The asphalt stings though my slacks, travelling up to my hips where the pain explodes. The strong hand that had brought me here picks me up, and stands me against the trunk of a car that seems so familiar. I look down to the fluorescent stripes, the POLICE sticker in bright blue and start to remember my day a little clearer.
The guilt rips through me like the devil himself is trying to escape from the cavity of my chest, only to grab me by the neck and carry me to the gates of hell. But before I can complete my sadistic vision, the sound of metal clicking and the feel of cold steel clamping around my wrists brings me back to reality. I see another officer walking towards my assailant, a bottle of something in hand. As he nears, I can make out the classing markings of Jack Daniel’s own whiskey, and my assailant asks “In his car?”
“Yeah, and all over the seats too.”
