|
by Scott Normandin
Alex left
with a very full stomach. The food was slightly
greasy, but other than that he gave the
place a rave review. His friends would truly
love this place. It would be tough to find
a place better, he thought. Of course, he
could always find places with better ritzy
atmosphere or more sophicated clientele,
but never could be find a place with a more
robust and exotic menu.
Alex left
the restaurant fully satisfied. Even though
his stomach was full, he walked with a spring
in his step and a glide to his slight prance.
He was appeased ini so many ways.
The restaurant
was a bit off the main road, so he had to
walk a bit to get to his car. The pavement
just damp from a recent light rain gave
a hearty smell to the warm night summer
air. He didn't mind the walk at all, he
was even humming a bit.
Suddenly
he stopped walking. Something wasn't right.
His stomach was churning as if something
inside of him wouldn't digest ans was fighting
to get back out. His hand made its way over
his stomach as he started limping forward
again. He was getting sick.
He knew
he was not going to make it to the car without
vomiting and he was not going to allow his
"jag" to be the recipient of his
illness, so he looked for a space in between
buildings to duck into. He lurched forward
as his vision started to blur. He used his
spare hand to brace himself up against the
cold brickwork adorning the facades of the
storefronts. The paint peeling from the
bricks gave his hand extra purchase as his
other hand continually held its place at
Alex's stomach, and he was beginning to
feel dizzy.
He forced
a slight smile, "Damn, figures I would
get food poisoning from a hole like that."
His attempt to humor himself did not ease
the feeling in his stomach that began to
push at him from the inside.
Alex found
a break between buildings that he could
sneak into. There was barely three feet
of room for the stores' rubbish containers
and old discards from people that had no
idea where to place their unwanted items.
Such a place was a breeding ground for rats
and transients, and served as a perch for
lowlife rapists and muggers, but Alex didn't
care. He was very ill.
He rounded
the corner and dropped down between two
garbage cans and allowed himself to be sick.
As each time he heaved, it became more and
more violent. He was not going to be able
to take it much more. He forced himself
to expel as much as he could. He did not
want anything left in his system. He was
beginning to feel drained and was loosing
his balance. He dropped down to his hands
and knees as he felt himself sway, feeling
darkness close in around the corners of
his eyes. A kind of blackness he did not
want. Who knows who would come across him
in such an unscrupulous place? Who knows
who would rob him or kill him?
He fell
down sideways onto the ground as the darkness
closed in. There was nothing he could do
to stop it. He felt himself drifting away
into nothingness that made him ore afraid
of the unknown than he had ever been. He
had heard stories of people that had become
victims in these dark alleyways, and he
was terrified. He stared out into the darkness
as he felt his consciouness slip away.
|
