More out of frustration at the plot-starved crap I was forced to read for a literature class than anything else, I wrote a short story called Rooftops a few months ago. After I finished it, I just sort of stored it away and forgot about it. I came across it again today and figured it wasn't coming to much use lying around on my hard drive. I don't think it's very good, but with a fresh reading I found it sort of fun. Maybe you will too.
It doesn't have anything to do with AS, unless maybe you get all metaphorical or something. I'd include the whole thing, but I don't think anyone would want to read 12 pages of my blathering. This excerpt is too short to make the story clear, but maybe if someone finds the writing interesting I'll post a link to the full thing. Comments, flames, and expressions of disgust are all welcome. Here goes:
Jake hit the top landing of the fire escape hard and rolled into a railing, bruising his ribs. He hardly noticed. He quickly raised himself to his feet and looked down, hesitating. The moonlight was cut off by the building here, and below him was only blackness. As another shot rang out, his body jerked and he began to run down the stairs. No. Please don't let her die. I don't know who she is, but don't let her die. No more. He began to leap down the next set of stairs two at a time before his feet suddenly betrayed him and he stumbled.
In an instant, he saw himself lying on the lonely metal landing with a concussion, his consciousness floating away. Then his hand caught the railing and he regained his balance. He slowly released his grip, and moved down the stairs again, slower this time. All he could think of was saving the girl from being killed. An actual person! Alive! Jake had begun to believe that Phil and himself were the only ones left in the city. Maybe the world.
He was nearly blind in the darkness now and could only feel his way down. As he reached the third (second? fourth?) floor he finally heard the girl.
“Who's there? I've got a gun!” She sounded out of breath but alive. He squinted in the darkness and was able to make out her faint silhouette.
“A friend. Don't shoot me.” And then, a pause that lasted for an eternity. Jake had a pretty good idea she might shoot him anyway, and closed his eyes.
Then she lowered her gun. “Okay.”
Jake noticed that he had been holding his breath, and released it in a slow whoosh. He heard the girl sit down heavily. He produced Phil's lighter and lit it. The tiny flame wasn't much help, but it was better than nothing. Holding it carefully in front of him, he knelt in front of the girl. She was sitting with her back against the railing and her arms around her knees. Her black hair contrasted sharply with her pale complexion. She was shivering.
“Are you okay?” he asked. She looked up at him and nodded. The reflection from the lighter's flame made her eyes into twin beacons in the darkness. She actually felt pretty far from okay, but a little rest might fix at least part of that. He moved back to the brick wall of the building and leaned against it. The lighter grew hot in his hand, and he clicked it off. They shared a brief moment to calm their breathing. He squinted to see the girl in the poor light.
“I'm Jake,” he said. There was a long pause.
“Claire,” she replied softly.
“Claire, we need to get to the roof.”
09 Mar 2005, 9:10 pm
And I wouldn't say them if they weren't true
