Writing, YeahWrite

The Gift of Life

It all started with the clicking of dirty-red stilettos as their unique diction cut through the whistling of the violent wind. Dustbins fell to the floor with a clatter. Vehicles came to a standstill with a scream as green became red. The owner and indeed inhabitant of the stilettos maintained her swagger in the gale, hips swinging with each stride, dark hair swishing with purpose. Her pale, milky skin camouflaged into the gray-brick buildings of the street. Her deep-set eyes, dark but with a glint, focused intently on a building at the end of the sidewalk.

‘Not far now’ she thought, once again stretching out her slender left leg for another stride, but this time her figure and the ground did not make contact as before.

A rough hand grabbed her from behind.

A stumble followed. Confusion.

Her eyes stay fixed on the destination until her vision became submerged in the darkness of an alleyway where she had been forcefully dragged.

‘QUIET!’ her attacker ordered with conviction, pressing her open-backed dress on the cool brick walls, like ice on her bare skin. His gruff voice confirmed his male identity, although she was already confident from the crushing grip of his hand on her shoulder.

‘Well this is an inconvenience’ she spat, the corners of her bold lips turning upwards, the glint in her eye still very much present. This witticism was clearly unappreciated by her assailant, as a blade was brought up to her neck.

A creature screamed in the distance – the meow of a feisty feline stray which sat atop a dumpster. A witness to the crime, it watched curiously as the events unfolded before its eyes, like emerald beacons in the darkness.

‘Okay, Okay. Let me explain’ she tried to reason with the holder of the now unsteady knife. ‘I’m -‘

‘I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!’ he growled with as much ferocity as his previous order to her. ‘You are lucky that you’re still alive’ he continued, this time with a more sombre tone. ‘Usually they don’t get a chance to speak’ he informed, avoiding her gaze, tightening his grip on the knife.

‘Wait’ she protested, struggling to force a single word from her now restricted airway. For the first time she began to panic, her eyes widening, breath accelerating. The tip of the blade cut into her neck, slowly revealing a river of red. One slash. One shank of the knife, one more slit of her throat and she’d be dead, she was sure of it. The world was closing in, the damp walls of the alley collapsing inwards.

Time passed. Pressure released. Something hit the ground with a sonorous arrival.

‘I can’t’ her once shouty assailant, whimpered. ‘This isn’t me anymore’. He turned his back and repeatedly launched his head into the opposite wall before beginning to cry rather audibly. With this, clearly unimpressed, the witnessing feline fled to seek entertainment elsewhere.

‘Thank you’ she uttered, her voice now hoarse and weak. These were words that rarely left her mouth. She staggered slowly to a patch of sunlight at the far side of the alley to inspect her battle scars. ‘Don’t worry about it, I’ve had worse’ she directed her words towards the broken man who had now concluded his head-banging. Smearing the blood from her slim neck with her fingertips she walked back towards him.

‘The gift of life’ she turned his head towards her once more ‘is the most magnanimous gesture known to man’. She brushed his forehead with her bloody thumb, leaving a trail of quick-drying blood on his grubby skin. ‘You’re a kind-hearted person’ she continued before the male figure felt a sharp blow to his stomach and took a sharp intake of breath. He collapsed to his knees, before she revealed her action and removed the full length of the blade. ‘Me? Well, I have no heart’ she smirked before heading back towards the street from which she herself was snatched, her dirty-red stilettos clicking back into the light…