tripping over some garden wall or some shit [l/a/c]
Oct 19, 2021 14:35:29 GMT -5
Post by brad bradford ★ d5b [arx] on Oct 19, 2021 14:35:29 GMT -5
laurence woodruff.
I used to hear stories all the time when I was growing up about burning up under bright lights, cameras flashing, crowds roaring, booming. It shakes the earth beneath my feet, like I can feel the place speaking to me, shouting, saying: "Go! Run!"
I used to wish I could grow up and become like those guys in the stories, rounding bases, heart racing faster than their legs can keep up, crowds standing to cheer, and they're setting off fireworks and screaming their name over and over again through a loudspeaker because they'd done it. They'd won.
I wonder if this was how it felt. If maybe the lights were blinding, cameras always lurking just out of sight, people screaming. So loud. Not even the cannon fire drowns them out.
Shit.
She's not behind me.
I slide in the dirt, practically tripping myself just to turn around. I breathe heavy, her name nothing more than a gasp on my lips until I force myself to sprint just as hard and just as fast, this time towards the danger which is so fucking stupid by the fucking way, but here I go, gun in my fist and some stupid, strange sense of honor? Or morality? Damn it, I don't know, I'm breathing.
Just. Focusing. On. Breathing. And not tripping, not- NOPE, not fucking tripping, fuck's sake. Didn't I just get to this bridge in record time exactly record time ago?
I point my gun before I even know what I'm aiming at, slowing to a strange gait as I get closer to two fleeing figures. I've only ever pointed a shotgun at clay pigeons and cried every night for a month over the real pigeon I killed with a BB gun.
"You okay? Y'alright?"
Probably not, probably shouldn't care. And I don't. I fucking don't, but I do- so fuck it all I'm asking stupid questions.
"Shit, sorry," I rush to lower the pistol, but only enough that it's still aimed somewhere near their feet. I don't know. Just in case.
"Wha-what happened?" I stammer, looking past them as I come closer, legs burning and lungs aching and eyes searching for any sign that I hadn't left her to die alone while I ran.
And then I trip and I face plant so hard that there is sand and grit in my teeth- up my fucking nostrils, dude.
And I dropped the gun.
Great.
"destroy yourself, it feels so good to fade away."