and ordered
his team to do something.
A man
picked up his blue and red baseball cap from the floor and replaced it on his
head. A petite woman shivered and ran her hands over her arms and face, making
sure everything was still there. Another lady patted Poof on the head, silently
thanking him for his unexpected heroics. A gangly teenager with messy hair and
ripped jeans wondered out loud, “What now?” Silence filled the air for a moment
as they all shrugged. Misha turned to everyone and
said, “I guess we just keep on living. Out here in the world.” Misha turned to go retrieve her backpack when she heard
commotion over her shoulder.
"Watch
out!" The man in the baseball cap blurted out in her direction. Poof
yelped in alarm as Misha turned and saw Brent
charging at her, his broken and bloody nose leaving a crimson trail behind him
on the steel floor. His cool attitude and control had evaporated along with the
smoke from the broken screens, and the madman that he really was twisted into
all his features. "You aren't worthy, you aren't worthy," he was
chanting with wide eyes as he closed the space between himself and Misha .
There may
not have been anything inside those blue pills, but Misha knew she had what it took inside of her. And she was ready to end this.
Instinctually, she cocked back her fist and released just in time to see it
meet square with Brent's face. He staggered back and grabbed his precious nose,
which was now fully broken thanks to Misha and Poof's
combined efforts. Something intangible had broken inside of Brent too and he
crumpled limply to the ground. He had given everything up. A lost soul, his
gaze lingered toward a big screen on the wall that could no longer verify his
existence for him.
The
crowd started to thin as everyone regained their bearings and exited the hall. Misha found an unmarked exit door and left through it with
Poof in tow. The two of them welcomed the fresh air of the world around them
and stared up at the full moon in the sky. Tree branches were silhouetted
against the midnight brightness and birds were unexpectedly chirping as if
throwing a party for a new day. The heady scent of spring rode the waves of
breeze around them. Misha stopped to sit on a park
bench down at the bottom of the hill and, with Poof’s help, examined her
fingers. They were all there, one of her fingernails longer than the rest.
Thank you for reading "Screen"
and I hope you enjoyed it. If you have the time, I appreciate a brief review on
Amazon!
--R.T.
About the
Author
R.T. Patel lived in a variety of places such as Ohio, Boston, Seattle,
France, and South Africa before finally settling down in California. She currently
resides in the San Francisco Bay Area.
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