I'v decided to have a go at a short story as a way of trying to 'productively' use some free time. Here's the first installment, hopefully there'll more to come.
Death of a Hero
Chapter 1
Solace. There are few places left in the city where the noise and chaos is suppressed long enough for me to attain peace of mind. The local comic book shop is somewhere I visit often and conveniently it's only a short diversion from my route to work. Located a few minutes walk off the main high street, away from the crowds of people pushing and shoving their way to work, this cold, dark shop is always pleasantly quiet.
I'm in my early twenties now, an age which causes people to frown when they see you reading comic books. Especially if your also wearing a shirt and tie, carrying a brief case and travelling to what they can only assume is a fairly respectable job. Obviously they think that someone in my position should have more sense than to waste their money on childish entertainment. It doesn't bother me in the slightest, everyone escapes somehow. Everyone needs a way to forget the complexities of modern life, be it sports, films or books, no-one can cope with reality 24/7, its just not possible.
Despite all of this negative judgement, which I receive on a daily basis through the silent but sullen stares of passers-by, I have once again returned to the comic book shop where I have just finished another purchase. Its about half eight on Thursday morning and the till is currently printing the receipt for the books within the carrier bag I'm holding. April, the girl behind the cash desk, hands me the receipt with her usual cheery smile. She's been working here for a couple of weeks now and I try to stop by the shop whenever I know she's scheduled in. “So how's work going?” she asks as I fumble with the change and thin slip of paper. “Same as always I guess.” I manage to reply after wrestling the contents of my hand into my wallet. “That bad huh?” she says as her mouth forms a kindly smile. I half-heartedly chuckle while I secretly contemplate asking her if she would like to accompany me to the cinema tomorrow night. “You have no idea.”
“Yeah? well I've got it pretty bad here too, you know.” My eyes glance around the shop, to the single customer standing near the window, to the handful of shelves that need to be stocked. “I'd hate to be in your position, I don't know how you manage it.” I joke back.
“It's not easy” she chuckles “But you know me, I'm a survivor.” I look back at her and see that she's biting her lip and averting her gaze away from me towards the floor. She's squirming as if she's about to say something embarrassing. “Have you ever...” is as far as April gets with her seemingly awkward question before she notices the puzzled expression on my face. For a moment there's silence while she is trying to decipher my facial expression, which is actually me trying to discover why my pocket is vibrating. I put down the carrier bag containing my latest purchase and cautiously reach in to my trouser pocket. My hand grasps the familiar plastic casing of my mobile phone. Strange, I never have my phone on vibrate, It must be playing up. The office must be trying to get hold of me, am I'm running late again? At this point my train of thought hits a buckle in the track.
Pulling the phone out of my pocket with the right hand, I simultaneously lift my left hand to look at my watch, this causes me to drop the briefcase I've been carrying. Instinctively I try to catch the falling briefcase by flailing both of my arms towards it, the phone slips from my right hand and flies across the length of the shop. The briefcase continues to plummet downwards, springs open on impact and launches its contents across the floor of the shop. The blood flows rapidly from all non-essential organs to my face.
I drop to my knees and scramble about on the floor shovelling everything back into my case. Once the mass of papers are secured I move towards my phone which is lying quietly near the door. I stumble as I try to stand and walk at the same time. When I'm close enough I bend over and pick up the phone and with another step reach the front door of the shop and pull it open. Avoiding eye contact with anyone (most importantly April) I turn around and tell April it was probably the office wanting to know where I was and that I should really be going now. Well that's how I wanted it to sound but through the light-headedness and overwhelming humiliation I'm certain it came out as a mess of half started sentences and incoherent noises.
Now I'm outside, walking at a fast pace in the direction of the office. There couldn't be enough distance between me and the shop even if I catapulted myself over the horizon. I look at my phone but don't even register what I'm reading and put it back into my pocket. I sigh loudly because I've just realised I've left my bag in the shop. It would take a gun to my head to make me go back and get it. In the absence of a gun-wielding maniac I continue to the office.