Orange Sidewalk

I don’t know why, but I feel like I’m being followed. The city has grown cold, the days longer and darker; it is already fall, after all. I'm leaving the warmth of a local late-night grocery store and trudge my way back to my apartment, alone in the creeping darkness, my only comfort the orange glow of rusty streetlamps and the scarce squares of dim light flowing out of random office windows. The street, normally packed with bodies slipping past one another on the weathered cement, is barren. The city’s powerful choir of voices is unusually absent. It feels eerie to be the lone figure standing in the screaming silence, save for the invisible whisper of the fall winds, weaving themselves into the bare branches of trees, and the rhythmic beat of my footsteps echoing on the sturdy ground in harmony with the noisy crinkle of my plastic QFC bag.

Though the stillness of the city is beautiful, it begins to make me extremely paranoid. It's finals week for me at my university and I'm very on edge, even more so than usual. I decided to walk to the store to restock canned coffee and energy drinks to get me through the week and to clear my restless head. But it doesn’t seem to be helping me much.

Suddenly my distressed daydreaming and the city's silence is interrupted; somewhere behind me I hear a foreign noise that seems to stalk me as I continue to walk further down the leaf-strewn street. My heart instantly begins to pound against the wall of my chest, the noisy beat echoing loudly in my ears. I begin to change my slow stroll to a quickened stride, but no matter how much faster I jog, the sounds from behind continue to fill my ears and remain trapped there. My originally cold, raw hands quickly thaw and become hot while my fingers tightly grip the handle of the bag. I frantically recite prayers and silently say my goodbyes as I urge my fatigued legs to move onward, finally breaking into a frantic flight, like a moth hopping from one pool of light to the next. But my weary lungs, stinging, pleading for more oxygen, eventually cause me to stop.

While desperately gasping for precious air, I reluctantly turn my head around. There was nothing in front of me in the orange glow of the sidewalk, so I look at the ground and catch sight of an adorable, innocent squirrel. I drop myself and my bag to the ground and breathe a sigh of relief, feeling my pulse begin to slow down, mumbling some thanks through heavy breathing. I crack a smile, thinking how silly I was for being so worried over nothing.

"Finals must've really gotten to me," I whisper, my breathing beginning to stabilize. Little did I know, that in the darkness between the lamps, a shadow is approaching nearer and nearer while I look dumbfounded at my furry pursuer.

The world suddenly grows silent once again; no wind, nor rustle of my bag, but the gentle tap of unknown footsteps bounding closer to my vulnerable spot on the empty, orange-hued sidewalk. The grin on my face hastily disappears. I struggle to crawl away, but realize my attempt is in vain and it is better to accept my dismal fate. A great wave of sadness washes over me as I realize that I will probably never get to finish my post-graduate degree, or even see my friends or family ever again. What a sad way to die. The darkness of the mysterious person’s face melts into light, and I look up to them in disbelief.

“You forgot your second bag, dear," chirps the sweet old lady from the grocery store with a smile.

#Classof19 #Spring2019Edition #ShortStories