Every day I walk out of my apartment at seven o’clock in the morning for a walk. I love walks, I sometimes even walk to my college. One day I walked all the way to the next town to my favorite burger shop…but that’s a story for some other day.
It’s always the usual here at Simiville. The usual weather, the usual beggar at the end of my street, the usual grey buildings stranger to me than the colorful and not-so-strange people living in them, the usual black street dog that greets me when I walk out of my apartment all year long. The dog plays with me till the end of the street I live at, just a few blocks away. I named the dog Jack, we play and play till we are both sweating. Takes almost half an hour out of my schedule, but I don’t mind it at all.
Yes, I am a very outgoing person. I meet and greet people all day long so it’s not inappropriate if you see people hi-fiving me and talk to me even if I am in the next town
Well, where was I going with this? This isn’t why I wrote to you!
From all the things I was used to, change was the most inconsistent thing in my life, so if something like what happened that day, happened to you…you might not even be surprised. Or will you be?
As usual I went out of my apartment at 7’o clock, expecting to be pounced upon by Jack.
I stop for a moment and look around, no Jack. I started walking towards my usual route.
At the end of the street I see Jack. For a moment, out of excitement I pace towards him, but stop right in my tracks the next moment.
Looking at him had always made my pulse race…but today the reason behind the quickening of my breath and the sweat on my palms was much different.
He was drenched and trembling. Drenched in a red liquid, didn’t take me much to recognize it as blood. He was trebling with fear and not moving from his place.
I…didn’t know how to react, probably because something like that had never happened with me, probably because Jack was alive and didn’t have a single cut on his body, as much as I could make out from seeing him. Probably.
Jack was alright…he didn’t have a single cut on his body. Then whose blood was it?
That’s when it struck me like lightning, the emotion. It surged within my body, filling me to the brim… making my hair rise out of their sockets, the only emotion I could feel at that time, fear.
I looked at my hands, they were trembling and red.
Red? My hands were red? Blood? Whose blood? Mine?
Before I could answer all that, my brain did the only sensible thing it could do at the moment.
I screamed and ran backwards as fast as I could, only to be hindered in the process by an object and falling on the ground. I turn around to see what it is.
It’s the arm of the beggar. I panicked and threw it away, stood up while running and stumbling, but I regained my balance and ran again.
I locked my apartment’s door and closed the windows. Tried calling the police but the line was dead.
The line was dead.
This isn’t how my day was supposed to go. As I was trying to hide, trembling and denying any possibility of further changes in my schedule, I heard a knock on the door.
More than a knock, it was a constant bang of the fist on my door. It came every few seconds, I slowly realized it was eerily periodic.
I went to the door and looked through the hole to see who it is, I saw no one at the door. But I could still hear the constant knock.
It was all too suspicious, but thoughtlessly I still opened the door.
Opening that door might have been the biggest mistake I made in my short life.
(To be Continued)