A Narrow Alley at Night
Los Angeles, California, United States.
A boy darted across the midnight street, his footsteps echoing like gunfire between the walls of a narrow alley. Each stride cut through his own shadow cast by flickering streetlamps planted along the lane. On one side rose the sheer walls of a high-rise block; from its windows spilled cold, white light like silent eyes.
In his hand he clutched a small pistol close to his body. More troubling than the weapon was the thick, dark-red stain seeping from his wrist, crawling up the sleeve of his shirt. Breath ragged, the boy pressed himself against a lamppost at the corner, catching sight of small potted plants lined up along the wall like mute witnesses. Eyes shut, he inhaled and exhaled in uneven gulps.
His gaze darted left, then right. Something was chasing him he could feel it, the way prey feels the hunter's breath. He pushed off the lamppost, about to run again
At the far end of the alley, a tall figure emerged from the darkness. The man raised a pistol, aiming straight at the boy. The metallic snap of a round being chambered rang out, and the boy froze, not knowing what would come next.
Beneath the shadow, the man's grip trembled. His dark hand quivered on the gun as if torn by an unseen struggle.
BANG! The first shot cracked, sparking a hole in the wall inches from the boy's ear.
Startled, the boy spun, eyes wide. Hands lifted, his voice cracked with terror:
"Please, I–I didn't do it! I didn't do..... nothing"
The shadowed lowered his gun slightly, his voice a rough mixture of anger and something older, deeper: "You can't run from what's coming. Have you seen it yet? the same picture, again and again. and if i end you now, what kind of future will i hold?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Please~ I told you, I didn't kill him!" The boy dropped his weapon onto the sidewalk, surrendering everything. The alley's light flickered on, off, on until the darkness stretched like a held breath.
"This time… can you carry it?" the man asked, raising the gun again, his finger tight on the trigger.
"Goddamn it, boy! Answer Me~"
Tears pooled in the boy's eyes. "Yes," he whispered. "I'll carry everything. Please don't shoot me." He dropped to his knees, pleading.
"Then promise me this," the man said. "Promise you'll mend what i've done wrong. And never look back."
"I-I promise…" the boy murmured, wiping his tears.
"Then I'll keep my promise too."
Before the boy could breathe, the man pressed the barrel, pointing his own.... BANG!
The smell of gunpowder exploded in the narrow space. The man collapsed, motionless on the sidewalk. Sirens wailed faintly in the distance, growing louder. Without looking back, the boy ran. He vaulted the fence at the end of the alley, pulling himself over with every shred of strength, disappearing into the rows of buildings as the moon vanished behind a bank of clouds.
"The future, to me, is like a ship already taking on water. My father told me never to look back, to walk forward into a brighter tomorrow. But what if the future is only a fragile illusion? If you could walk backward a million miles without turning your head, would you still follow your own footsteps.... just to go back home?" - Brian Williams. Dixon
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Welcome to our archive. If you are hearing these words or reading them think of it as a tooth fairy whispering in your ears. We will unravel these secrets together. Perhaps this guidance will aid you… or perhaps it will not~ When each tale reaches its end, we will return here, to this dim chamber. The questions I answer for you, dear reader, may prove useful… or not at all. That is for you alone to decide. Only your heart can tell whether you truly wish to receive these words.
Ah, forgive me. You may call me "The Reader~" Haha!. Do not ask for my true name for I can scarcely remember it myself. Ha! An old greaser's jest!… pay it no mind."
The voice was cracked, rasping with age. Pages turned with a brittle whisper, while the flame of a lantern flickered weakly upon a flat wooden desk. The room was drenched in shadow, save for the faint circle of lamplight. There, lying upon the grey wood, rested a weathered book bound in ash colored leather, its title inked in black and powdered with dust.
I Wish You Were Here.
The words were encircled by the faded emblem of a wide-winged eagle.
"A classy..... name for a tome, wouldn't you say? The boy within these pages brave as he was, unbeaten by any foe was yet a sorrowful soul. A caged bird with walls for sky. Fear crept into his heart, feeding upon him bit by bit. Perhaps he would rise, a hero of battlefields, remembered by all… or perhaps he would become an armored killer, for in truth, those who survive are called heroes, while those who fall are remembered as legends. the grime upon its cover is proof enough of its years. Ah, but let us not waste time. Allow me to open this piece of a... tome, and together, let us see what lies within" With frail, bony fingers, the old man cracked open the book. Its secrets breathed out into the firelit dark.