rain

Rainy Day Dead Man

Wrong place, and to this day I’m still trying to figure out if it was the wrong time too. Rounding the corner, I saw him lying on the sidewalk, struggling to get up.

My feet instinctively moved forward to help, but then my eyes shut them down.

Hovering just a few feet away, two men stood. Rain drenched silhouettes with murderous intent. They took turns shouting, then stomping on him, the drizzle of rain became deafening as the bottom dropped out of the sky like a wet paper bag.

I squinted, putting my hand over my eyes in a vain attempt to see through the squall.

The man was on one knee, then staggered drunkenly to his feet as the muffled shouts continued. As one of the assailants raised a fist high above his head, the man on the ground pulled something heavy from his side. A glint from the streetlights revealed its metallic truth.

Crack. Bang. Boom.

A flash. Once. Twice. Finally, a third.

The two men fell. My eyes felt as if they were going to bulge out of their sockets, my heart digging through my chest screaming explode.

What did I just see? Did I see anything through this downpour?

In my panic, my uncertainty, I completely forgot the man now bent over the two bodies. I assumed he was digging through their pockets but he regained my full attention as he lurched like a scorpion’s tail raising to strike in the downpour.

He turned his head lazily up and down the street but not concerned enough to look all the way behind himself. I still clung tight to the edge of the building, breath stuck and eyes stinging. Forcing every fiber of my leg muscles to turn, I slunk back down the alley like a cartoon character in the 80’s.

For weeks after, I searched the news. Nothing. It made me start to question my sanity. For over three months, I wouldn’t leave home when the rain started to fall.