Tag Archives: arm

End of a long walk


The lights from the car shown on a tan overcoat lying on the path.  There was a silhouette behind the lights; motionless except for the steam rising from its mouth.  I reached in my pocket and came to the unpleasant realization that in the struggle I had lost my gun, but they don’t know that, at least not yet.  There is a girl screaming in the distance, but the ravine walls make it impossible to tell from which direction.  The sentinel behind the car remains motionless; a threat of violence and the unknown.

I pull myself up and stagger drunkenly forward, eventually steadying myself on the hood of the car.  Cold steel immediately surrounds my wrist followed by the sound of metal on metal and chain.  The silhouette is gone and the car is now moving.  A tug on my wrist can only mean I’ve been attached to the bumper.  The engine revs and as I look at the ridge above the ravine I see a pale girl struggling against someone or something.  She seems to float as she falls. If I could lunge forward I might break her fall, but now the car is backing up.

My feet keep up with the motion for a moment and then I hear the engine and feel my feet leave the ground and in that instant I am no longer attached to the car, but floating towards her.  Our eyes meet as I sail to the rock wall and at that moment I reach out for her and know that I cannot because my arm is still attached to the bumper of the car, not to me.  The rock is cold against my face, cold gives way to sting and then to pain and now I am falling.  Dust is still rising when I open my eyes.  She lay not more than four feet away.  There is weight on the hand I still have and then three hot sharp impacts into my arm.

The lights are gone.  I turn on my back and feel tired.  The last thing I remember is the moon and the sound of water.