Sensible Living

Easing myself down, I kicked the killer in the knee.  This did little.  He walked straight through this.  I’m not going to lie.  I’m not a person who works out at all.  I do not desire physical motion of any kind.  I enjoy sitting on my sofa and reading magazines about different people around the world as people have always fascinated me.  Reading about this man who wished to decapitate me would definitely keep me plopped on the sofa for hours.  So my laziness could be my undoing as I’m not sure yet what will happen.  I know if I had bothered to move my lazy ass more over the years, I would be in better shape to deal with the biggest problem life has ever thrown at me.  Only I didn’t.

These things don’t happen overnight.  Time and time again, we repeat our mistakes.  That is what always gets us in the end.  It’s not about what we do when confronted.  It’s about what we’ve done to prepare for such occurrences.  I had done nothing in preparation.  Purely my own fault.  I should have known better.

Once he walked through my pitiful kick, he slashed the knife at my chest.  I could feel the small blood drops form as I grabbed his hat and yanked it down over his eyes.  I toppled back to the same cement the deceased fellow now lay on behind the wall to my right.  On the way down, he swung again, missing me as if this had been rehearsed.  It was that close.  Only there would be no director shouting for us to “cut.”  I turned to get back up, but this one was smart.  He didn’t attempt to raise the hat up out of his eyes.  He slashed left to right downward, slicing my knee open.  I don’t know why I didn’t shout in pain.  I wanted to.

Rolling to my side, I found myself standing again somehow.  He’d already adjusted the hat.  He sliced toward my right, but I turned just enough for him to miss me and get close enough out his commitment to the slash that I slammed the fingertips of my right hand into his throat.  He should have went down gasping but to go along with his other black attire, he wore a black scarf bundled around his throat as well.  The blow did give him pause.  I darted away.

My profession was a welder.  I know I don’t seem the type.  My job pays a decent wage but since my employer cut my hours, I found little side jobs.  Tonight would be a good payment.  I was putting the finishing touches on a Ford that had been sitting up to rust for some time.  The owner loved old ford trucks and had replaced most of the interior parts so that it could run once again.  Only the body needed some rusty holes patched up which I was happy to help him out with.  I used this old building which he owned and had fallen out of use.  He had plenty of money and knew that a new outfit was looking into moving back in here to give him a hefty rent payment shortly but for now, it was all mine.  The job had taken me a week, but now I was finished.  I knew a few hours earlier when I took a break to eat an apple I should have worked straight on through.  Only, I denied my instincts.  Now I was paying for it.

Racing away from my attacker, I turned the corner of another wall into a large opening.  Even if I could outrun him, he had the opportunity of throwing the huge blade at me.  Yet, I had no other options.  I ran straight down the middle of the large room toward the door that led up some stairs to the next floor.  My footsteps slapped the cement while his black shoes glided across.  I always thought having heavy footsteps thump along behind you in an attack would be terrifying. I must say that peering over my shoulder to see that he nearly silently glided along behind me scared me much worse than I could have imagined.





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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)