When I first decided to write stories for this blog as a means of strengthening my writing abilities, I did so in a rather cavalier manner.
In truth, I even decided to go with the flash- fiction format as I thought it would be easier. Nothing could be further from the truth! Being confined to 1,000 words forced edit after edit to make some sort of cohesive plot.
Redundant words and purple prose had to be culled, and it was one of the most mentally taxing activities I've enjoyed in a long, long time. I'd like to say I learned a lot but that would imply a finality I'm uncomfortable with.
I'm learning a lot. I'm unlearning a lot, as well. I feel like with my first piece of fiction as an adult I've taken a very important step, if not a grand one. A baby-step then.
Please, enjoy the story. Leave a comment, if you'd like. I make no claims as to its quality, as my goal at this stage of the game is just to make sense and hopefully not insult the reader's intelligence.
*****
Hypoxia
Marcus was a big man, and it took a lot to bring him down. Lately, however, he hadn't been himself. His easy smile no longer came easily, nor shown as brightly.
People were starting to get curious about the changes, and he couldn't blame them. As he clocked out of work that night and slipped on his headphones he stopped to think on all the curious things that had happened to him this year. The divorce. Being a weekend dad. Losing his car. It had all been unexpected and somehow inevitable. He hadn't exactly been shocked when his ex-wife broke the news to him, but he was convinced that nobody ever was. He surely wasn't a boyscout, but he knew that he wasn't an asshole.
He braced himself against the cold as he exited the building. Home was a long ways off and a decent winter coat was just one more thing on his already expansive list of things he needed to buy. There just never seemed to be enough money, or hours in a day, or anything, these days.
He did count himself lucky on that cold, clear December night though. He may miss seeing his sons daily. He might even, if pressed, admit to occasionally missing his ex-wife. One thing he didn't miss was the constant drama of the past few years. His new life had its share of challenges, but they were far from the opera he had found himself in before the divorce.
The six mile walk to, and from, work had become so ingrained in his day that he pretty much didn't even notice it anymore. He just slipped on his headphones, got lost inside his own head, and before he knew it he was where he needed to be. He would never admit it, but it was his favorite part of the day. It kept him fit, and gave him much-needed time for introspection.
Even with the constant distraction provided by the headphones, and his incessant daydreaming, Marcus tried to stay alert on his walks. It wasn't that town was dangerous. The entire length of highway he walked had a nice, wide sidewalk and he'd never actually came across another traveler on foot. Sometimes, when there was no traffic, he felt like the last man on Earth.
It was on one such night that Marcus noticed a young woman slinking up from what he'd always assumed to be an abandoned house which sat off the road a piece. Much like the house, she was small and carried an air of neglect. Too-thin lips sat crookedly on a too-sharp face. To Marcus, though she was obscured in darkness, it looked like she had seen hard times.
As she matched his pace, slightly behind him, he hoped that he could just keep his headphones on and be left alone. It had been a long day and he would have to leave the house at sunrise to get to work on time in the morning. He wasn't in the mood for company, especially at such an odd hour, and coming from a house he had passed many times and never seen a sign of life. The whole situation stank, and he lowered the volume on his music so he could listen.
"Hey, man. You got a phone I can use?" She asked. He didn't reply, hoping that she would think he hadn't noticed and just leave him alone. "Hey, man. Your phone?" she asked louder this time. Marcus emphatically didn't want this shady chick handling his phone. "Sorry, it's not a phone. Just one of those cheap mp3 players" he lied, hoping she would take his word for it.
"Shit, man. I really need to get to a phone to call a cab." she said. "You got a phone at your house?". He wasn't sure how to respond in a way that would get her to go away quickest. "I do, but my place is 4 miles away. You'll find a ride sooner by hitchhiking." he said, though he was uncomfortable suggesting anyone hitchhike on this lonesome stretch of highway.
Marcus turned back toward home and raised his phone's volume again. He was blissfully alone again, and free to be lost in his music and flights of fancy. He didn't feel good about lying, but he didn't like the situation. The shady woman. The abandoned house. The whole scene rubbed him the wrong way. She might be cooking meth in there! She looked the part.
As he eased on down the road, his conscious pricked at him. Really, what would letting her use the phone risk? It wasn't exactly new. He turned around and tried to catch the girl before she got picked up.
When he got back to the darkened house, the girl was not out front. Marcus was certain that there hasn't been any cars in either direction, so where had she gone?
Turning to face the house, his breath-cloud hitched in the cold air. Where else?
Slowly, he crept toward the door. The knob was slack. broken. It twisted impotently in his hand as he opened the door. Something heavy crinkled behind the door, stopping it short. Marcus shoved his shoulder into it and everything gave way.
Stepping into the decay and dark, his voice couldn't hide his fear. "Miss? You in here? I'VE GOT A PHONE!" he cried. No reply save deafening emptiness. The small house was truly deserted. He laughed at his wild imagination. She had obviously walked off in the other direction.
Numb with relief, he turned toward the door and stumbled over what had blocked it. He fell on the tarp amid a racket of crinkling sounds. A sickening wave took hold as he saw the oblong parcel.
The clear tarp had been wrapped around the object so much that it was almost translucent. Almost.
He was face-to-face with the girl from the road, her long-dead face stuck in a desperate last gasp for oxygen she would never find.
*****
