Post by Floyd Looney on Oct 24, 2009 0:04:53 GMT -5
I slept in a closet last night. It didn't smell very good, the rats were not happy about being evicted. I stuffed the decayed rags into the holes to keep them out.
I always have to hide. Run away and hide.
I still wake up with a wet face, from crying in my sleep. I miss my parents even though its been four years I still miss them. I was safe with them. I am never safe now. I can't pretend to be a boy anymore, even though in some places that attracted the wrong attention.
This city is abandoned. The worst elements stayed here, those undesirable or exiled from the remaining cities. I reach out and feel my backpack, the .38 revolver is still there. The one I pulled off a dead guy a few months ago.
I used to be scared of it but now I'm scared to be without it: It is the last resort. I have knives, one had a broken tip and one is a bit rusty but I keep them.
Slowly I open the door and leave the closet, the sun is just peeking over the horizon. I walk through the house and there is someone asleep in the living room. I get as quiet as I can leaving, outside I run to separate myself from the abandoned house.
There are a million other abandoned houses.
I was nine years old when my perfect world crumbled, or at least when my child eyes noticed it. My dads job vanished, everyones job vanished, the world fell into a deep depression. My parents raced back to get me as the inner city lost power, the riots erupted. They were caught and pulled out of the car.
Dad died from a brick thrown at his head, mom was dragged to an alley by two big men. They fought each other to go "first" and she was able to escape. I found her again, I don't remember why they didn't hurt me that night.
She told me that running and hiding would keep me alive, she told me that if I had to fight, that I shouldn't be afraid to kill. If someone was trying to hurt me I had to bite, kick, scratch, stab, shoot or whatever to stop them. If I hurt them I was to kill them, make sure they never hurt me again.
I remember thinking I was going to starve. The grocery stores had been looted they were empty or burned down. Once I got lucky and found grocery bags in the trunk of an abandoned car.
There was a dead and decaying person in the car, it stank horribly. I pulled the trunk release and slammed the door.
The bread was green I threw that. The fruits and veggies had rotted into a stinking jelly. Meat was covered with bugs, I don't know how they got in there. I found some canned foods and some stuff in boxes that still looked good.
I put it all in my backpack under my teddy bear. It was the best luck I had, the one bright spot in four years. That first night I had splurged, eating a can of vienna weinies and a can of sliced peaches in heavy syrup. I drank the syrup.
The worst times. The worst times are things I don't think about. I lived through them. Twice I wasn't able to run and hide, twice I couldn't fight them off. One of them died later though, I made sure of that.
The nearest existing city has a high wall around it, they won't let me in. They said there is nobody inside who wants an orphan to feed. I ask every year, next time I'll try to tell them that I can take care of myself. I doubt that would work, its not like I know how to do anything productive or useful.
Or I could head to the countryside where I heard that people raised their own food and lived without technology. Without walls. They sold food to the cities and got stuff in trade but they didn't like each other. I couldn't say why or what the differences were.
I think about it but where would I find one of those communities? I wouldn't have a clue where to begin. Cities were linked by trains but maybe the food came by truck? I think I knew what roads they used. I would have to hang out by the gates of the city, hopefully there was a place to hide.
I always have to hide. Run away and hide.
I still wake up with a wet face, from crying in my sleep. I miss my parents even though its been four years I still miss them. I was safe with them. I am never safe now. I can't pretend to be a boy anymore, even though in some places that attracted the wrong attention.
This city is abandoned. The worst elements stayed here, those undesirable or exiled from the remaining cities. I reach out and feel my backpack, the .38 revolver is still there. The one I pulled off a dead guy a few months ago.
I used to be scared of it but now I'm scared to be without it: It is the last resort. I have knives, one had a broken tip and one is a bit rusty but I keep them.
Slowly I open the door and leave the closet, the sun is just peeking over the horizon. I walk through the house and there is someone asleep in the living room. I get as quiet as I can leaving, outside I run to separate myself from the abandoned house.
There are a million other abandoned houses.
I was nine years old when my perfect world crumbled, or at least when my child eyes noticed it. My dads job vanished, everyones job vanished, the world fell into a deep depression. My parents raced back to get me as the inner city lost power, the riots erupted. They were caught and pulled out of the car.
Dad died from a brick thrown at his head, mom was dragged to an alley by two big men. They fought each other to go "first" and she was able to escape. I found her again, I don't remember why they didn't hurt me that night.
She told me that running and hiding would keep me alive, she told me that if I had to fight, that I shouldn't be afraid to kill. If someone was trying to hurt me I had to bite, kick, scratch, stab, shoot or whatever to stop them. If I hurt them I was to kill them, make sure they never hurt me again.
I remember thinking I was going to starve. The grocery stores had been looted they were empty or burned down. Once I got lucky and found grocery bags in the trunk of an abandoned car.
There was a dead and decaying person in the car, it stank horribly. I pulled the trunk release and slammed the door.
The bread was green I threw that. The fruits and veggies had rotted into a stinking jelly. Meat was covered with bugs, I don't know how they got in there. I found some canned foods and some stuff in boxes that still looked good.
I put it all in my backpack under my teddy bear. It was the best luck I had, the one bright spot in four years. That first night I had splurged, eating a can of vienna weinies and a can of sliced peaches in heavy syrup. I drank the syrup.
The worst times. The worst times are things I don't think about. I lived through them. Twice I wasn't able to run and hide, twice I couldn't fight them off. One of them died later though, I made sure of that.
The nearest existing city has a high wall around it, they won't let me in. They said there is nobody inside who wants an orphan to feed. I ask every year, next time I'll try to tell them that I can take care of myself. I doubt that would work, its not like I know how to do anything productive or useful.
Or I could head to the countryside where I heard that people raised their own food and lived without technology. Without walls. They sold food to the cities and got stuff in trade but they didn't like each other. I couldn't say why or what the differences were.
I think about it but where would I find one of those communities? I wouldn't have a clue where to begin. Cities were linked by trains but maybe the food came by truck? I think I knew what roads they used. I would have to hang out by the gates of the city, hopefully there was a place to hide.