The Unseen Records
She walked along the busy Manhattan street, her eyes darting back and forth and her hands slipped into her leather pockets, offering her a bit of relief from the wintry winds. Within those crystal clear eyes there was an apprehension; a fear of something she wished to avoid. Each step sent those high-knee leather boats into the slush, and the honking from the passing cars on occasion, would alert her attention in the jitteriest fashion. But still, she kept on. She was only a few blocks away from her home, and if she could make it there without trouble it would bring an undue amount of peace upon her.
But fortune does not smile upon this woman for in mid-stride she had come to bump into a man. He was a tall fellow, his eyes full of gold, and his gaze similar to that of an eagle eyeing its prey. He wore a long black pea-coat, which had been further accented with some expensive black shoes. His hair was slicked back and littered with specks of gray. The long angular face, and the receded jaw, gave him a look of introspectiveness only found in an introvert, but this man was far from that.
“Hey, be careful,” cried the man with that fatherly concern, but in his fleeting expression of frustration, he had been unaware of his strength
When she bumped his shoulder, her hands slipped out of her pockets and she lost balance. Those skinny legs staggered, and she went towards the street but before she could clear the curb, the seemingly nice gentleman took hold of her ivory hand which had been dangling in the most frantic way. To all on the street it seemed, her fate was resigned to the end of that curb and she would have gladly accepted this inauspicious destiny. She would have accepted falling into horse manure. If that be the case, she would have calmly brushed the defecation away and would have taken a hot shower at the house. But when his hand took hold of hers; she took a deep breath
In this one gesture, her surroundings faded. Every passing car and every pedestrian kicking the snow across the busy Manhattan sidewalk ceased to be. The buildings towering over her melted away into this wall of blackness, and when it all had been said and done, she was surrounded by a black soundless abyss, with reality’s only surviving trait being the coldness of winter. Before she could gather herself, still images of the man surrounded her being, circling her in a carousel-like fashion.
In each image was some of the most dreadful and abhorrent acts known to man. One berating his employees and one of the man assaulting his wife, And a third one of him sending that lanky hand across his office desk as he proposed a plan to engage in murder. She tried to run from the images, but they seemed to surround her like hyenas upon the lone gazelle, his voice calling through each still image, and echoing through this blackened existence with unmistakable rage.
She knew she could not escape, and soon gave up, falling upon the black floor and curling into a ball, her hands covering her ears, hoping this would soon pass.
“Hey, you alright?” said the man.
The woman shook from her trance. She had been curled up into a ball upon the snowy Manhattan sidewalk, with pedestrians all huddled around her, some showing looks of concern and others bemused smirks. She glanced to the man with fearful eyes, and the man unaware of what she had seen, gave her a glowing smile.
“You almost wandered into the street there. You gotta be careful; these cabbies will murder ya out here.”
And she said nothing. Her hands retreated deep in her pockets and she quickly took off down the street.