Jan 12

Timeshares

By Bronwen Skye

I was running. Out of breath. I don’t remember much about the man I followed, but I knew that I was deeply in love with him. We were safe, for the moment. We ducked behind a large container, probably a garbage receptacle, in the dark rainy alleyway. We heard the sound of wet footsteps padding past as I tried to rise. He stopped me dead. He insistently urged me to remain quiet through the strength I felt in his arms as he held me there. We waited until the padding had passed.

We were desperate for something. I knew we had to get somewhere, and quickly. I can’t really recall what we were after. Whatever it was, the situation appeared to be one of the greatest importance, and instilled the greatest sense of fear in me that I can ever remember.

Time to move again. He coaxed me to my feet. Grabbing my arm, he began to run. I followed blindly. There was a door. He seemed relieved that we had reached it. He opened it and we slipped inside. It was dark, but we knew our way around. Left to the corner. Right to the desk in the corner. I heard the sound of papers rustling, rustling desperately in the shadow. I looked on in the dark, eager to see. Eager to know if what we had suspected was right. Eager to know that we were justified at last in the eyes of the law as well as in the eyes of God.

Suddenly, I felt a piercing pain. Godforsaken pain. A river of heat flashed up my back on the right side. Anguish. Another river of heat. The blade slipped effortlessly through my naked flesh. I turned round to look on my attacker. The light flickered. Had there been light? Then I saw nothing but blackness. As I died, I felt the tragic unjustness of it all.

But I soon forgot all this.

You can purchase the book online from Smashwords in multiple eBook formats at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/126525.

eBook formatting by Shelley Glasow Schadowsky.

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