This is something new I've been working on. It started off as a little side-project, but now I'm actually quite fond of this... so I'm gonna' keep going with it.
It was afternoon, and the sun was now beginning to slip underneath the roof of the church. It had been a beautiful day, without a single cloud in the sky, and an amazingly high temperature. In the middle of Kent, it wasn’t often this kind of weather was seen. Most people had been outside, in their gardens, enjoying the sun. Wyatt, however, had been inside, studying. More specifically, he had been in the library, trying to concentrate on the work his collage had assigned. He had failed miserably, and ended up checking the three books he needed out and vowing to read them later. He knew he wouldn’t of course. He wasn’t like that.
Wyatt was seventeen, a fairly lean yet somewhat dim witted student. He was one of those people who often needed a few seconds before he understood a simple joke, or had to go back and repeat the last sentence of a book before he really understood it. He had been growing his blond hair for about a month now, and it now covered his ears. Most his friends had amazingly long hair, and he had decided to join them, in an attempt to fit in. Most of them were heavy drug users, uneducated heavy metal lovers, who took every opportunity to have a drunken time. Wyatt wasn’t like this, and had always been the guy in the background. He’d never tried drugs, gotten drunk or had a girlfriend. He didn’t consider himself ‘Unattractive’, it was just because he was so much of an outcast.
He was the only one walking down the high street in his home town, past the various shops that were getting ready to close, with a bag draped over his shoulder, containing a very heavy collection of books.
Unfortunately, Wyatt wasn’t a smart kid either. He had trouble keeping interested in class, cooperating with the teachers, and general getting his homework in on time. He was almost certain his collage was preparing to throw him out if he fell behind one more time. But if he wasn’t a great social leader, and wasn’t an academic shine either, what was he?
As he walked, a sudden sensation in his back pocket caused him to stumble in shock. His mobile phone was vibrating. Growling at his own shock, he pushed his hand down into his pocket and pulled out a very old, very large phone.
Another thing about him, he had very little money. It had taken him half a year to save up for this phone, which had gone out of fashion within months. All his friends had powerful camera phones, cars that glowed in the dark, and highly expensive guitars that they couldn’t even play. But he had very little.
Still growling to himself, he clicked the green switch on his phone, and held it to his ear.
“Hello?” He muttered, remaining still as he waited for an answer.
“Evening Wyatt. How was your day?” Came the male voice from the other end. Wyatt grinned at the sound of his father.
“Hey dad, I’m just getting the bus now.”
“You sure you don’t want a lift? I’m just about to leave work and all.”
“No I’m ok, thanks; it’s only a few quid. I was just going to the bank now; need to get that money I owe you withdrawn.”
“Oh yes, that fifty pounds,” Wyatt rolled his eyes at his father’s answer.
“I’m not stupid dad. It was thirty pounds.”
“Ah, worth a try, ‘ey?” Wyatt sniggered.
“Hardly. I guess I’ll see you later then Dad. And don’t try any more stupid tricks, ok?” Wyatt muttered, as the bank was visible just a few meters in front of him.
“Righto, I’ll see you later, take care,” Wyatt ended the call, and pushed his phone back into his pocket. He looked at his watch, which read 5:43PM. The bank usually closed at 6:00PM. Smiling to himself, he pushed the bank’s door open and strolled inside.
There were several glass windows in the walls, each one with an accountant on the other side. There was a line, with about three people, which Wyatt joined and began patiently waiting for his turn to be served. It was very hot inside the bank, and he could already feel his shirt sticking to his chest. The sooner he was out of here the better. He hated sweating.
But no matter how much he was sweating, it was nothing compared to the sweat beads breaking out on the forehead of the man in front of him. Not only this, but was shaking. Wyatt didn’t even want to know why he looked so distraught, as it wasn’t his business. He just wanted to leave as soon as possible.
The line moved forward one, and Wyatt eagerly filled the empty place in front of him. The only sound, apart from the whispers of those around him, was the steady ticking of the clock nailed to the wall next to him. It was ticking so slowly…second by agonizing second. He growled under his breath, half tempted to walk out and get the money out another day. No, just get it over with…
The line moved forward again, and Wyatt mumbled a sigh of relief as he would only have to wait until the man in front of him had finished. Someone had joined the line behind him now, an old woman who smelt faintly of something he’d rather avoid. Great, above it all, he was now stuck in front of some old lady.
At long last, the moved forward again! Now he was in front, and the nervous sweaty man in front finally made his way towards one of the windows. He didn’t have to wait long now.
His back pocket vibrated again, and he grumbled to himself as he pulled his phone out yet again. This time he had received a text, from ‘Laura Mob’. Frowning, he read the text.
Hey Wyatt, how u doin? Can u come down 2 mine tomoz evening, got everybody comin’ round. Should b fun, txt bak xXx
No, he couldn’t go… he had work to do! But… then again, he could always do his work the day after. He was hardly going to drink anything, so being hung-over wouldn’t be a problem. He made up his mind, and began texting back.
Half way through his message something caught his attention, and he gazed up. The nervous looking man in front of him was no longer whispering to the lady behind the glass, but rather hissing aggressively at her. He rolled his eyes, wondering what on earth had got him so annoyed.
Alright, who else is coming? XxX
He couldn’t be bothered to write anything else, his fingers were too slow. He looked back up at the man who had been hissing at the accountant, and suddenly began to feel an edge of concern. The lady was looking terrified. Maybe they knew each other? He just about overheard words such as ‘Just do it!’ and began to feel uneasy. Maybe he should just come back another day.
It wasn’t until about a minute later when the man pulled something out of his pocket. It was a handgun. Feeling his stomach contract with sudden fear, he tried to back away, but found his path blocked by the old lady behind him.
“Nobody move! If anybody tries to go outside I swear to God I’ll blow your freakin’ brains out!” The man yelled, waving the barrel of his weapon around the entire bank. Almost everybody, except Wyatt, jumped down to the ground. He was still in shock. The man turned back around, pointing his weapon to the accountant, who seemed busy filling an empty bag with something.
Wyatt stared at the robbers back, then to the door. It was only a few feet to the exit; he could make it, easily. The robber wasn’t even looking. Hardly daring to breath, he began to sidestep his way towards the door. It was only about a meter away now, he could easily make it!
But, when he reached the door frame, there was a sudden thud as he accidentally kicked the edge of the door, causing a sound that rang in the silence of the bank. The robber immediately spun around, pointing his weapon straight at Wyatt’s face.
“Hey! Get down on the ground kid! I mean it! I’ll shoot you!” For some reason, Wyatt wasn’t as scared as he should have been. He had seen films like this before, and you could always tell if the robber was being serious. This particular criminal’s hand was shaking so hard Wyatt found it very difficult to believe he could actually kill him.
“Just do it! You got three seconds!” The robber shouted almost instantly afterwards, when Wyatt hadn’t moved an inch.
Another thing to know about Wyatt is that when it came to confronting another person, he’d either back down or get someone else to do it. When his friends got into fights he usually stepped back, kept his distance and acted as though he didn’t know anybody involved. He wasn’t exactly brave. So when he was the one getting threatened, his nerves often failed him and he tried to run. But this time running was out the question.
“3…2…” The robber mumbled, although in reality it was nine seconds he had waited. However, because the robber had been concentrating on Wyatt’s attempted escape, he had failed to notice the dark colored man sneaking up behind, with what looked like a large alcoholic bottle in hand. Just as the robber looked as though he was about to shoot, the glass bottle smashed over his head, and the robber was caught off balance.
Wyatt’s panic got the better of him. He wheeled around, his back slipping off his shoulder as he pelted outside, stumbling in the sudden rush. He could hear commotion behind him, but he ignored it, and continued to run up the street.
He had taken about five steps from the bank door, when he suddenly stopped moving, coming to an abrupt halt right outside a post office. Why had he stopped? At first, he wasn’t sure…for some reason his legs just refused to obey him. He felt slightly dizzy, as though he had just been spinning in circles for the last few minutes.
As though by instinct, his form turned around, and he focused one what was behind him. But that was difficult to, his vision was fading. What was going on? He caught a quick glimpse of the robber, his firearm raised and pointed at Wyatt, a look of terror pasted across his face. It was at this point that Wyatt lost balance, and fell backwards onto the stone.
It was also at this point where he brought his hand up to a point in his neck, just above his collar bone. He felt something… something wet, warm and unnerving. That wasn’t…blood? He looked at his hand, which was almost completely red. It was blood…a lot of it.
He could see a puddle of red, getting wider and wider around him. His vision was almost completely blurred, and his head hit the stone floor. For some reason, he felt like going to sleep. Bit odd, falling asleep in a public place, in the middle of the pavement. What? What am I thinking!? He knew what had happened, he’d been shot. He didn’t think the robber would actually do it…but he had. He’d been wrong. Surely this was going to affect the rest of his life, he told himself. What if he needed medical care for months? His school work would fail!
Of course he knew the truth. As he felt his entire form become motionless, he was surprised that there was no pain. There were people crowding around him now, but he barely noticed. They seemed to just…fade away. Just like everything else. He forgot everything. His family, his friends, his work, his life. He closed his eyes, and the world around him dissolved.
<*>
He didn’t know how long he’d been lying on the stone. A minute at most, but in that time he had finally come to terms with the truth. This wasn’t a hospital case. The robber had shot him in the neck, and now he was dying. Or dead. No…he didn’t feel alive anymore, he must be dead. So where did that leave him?
If he was dead, why could he still feel the wind moving against his cheek? And since when was the wind so strong? His eyes were closed, and he was still laying on a hard surface, but he still felt alive. He then noticed the deafening sound of a storm overhead, which replaced the minor sound of voices previously. His energy seemed to return. Shouldn’t he be floating up to the clouds now?
He opened his eyes, and lifted his head very slightly. He was still in the same street he had been two minutes ago, but it looked like a different world. The sky was a dark blue color, and the clouds had twisted into a spiral shape right above him. It was very windy, as though a hurricane had just hit. Even more disturbing was the street, which had previously been full of people, was now completely deserted. The wind seemed to be… tearing it apart. Such as on a nearby lamppost, he could see what looked like small particles flying from it, like sugar dissolving in a cup of tea. But the lamppost itself looked completely intact. Not only were the physical objects dissolving, but the very essence of this place was unnatural. The air was an odd blue color. For some reason, it felt as though he had been dumped into a war zone.
Shaking, he got to his feet, surveying the entire street. He had to narrow his eyes, because the wind was so strong his eyes had begun to water. Where the hell was he? He wasn’t on planet Earth, that much was for sure. Where was the robber? Those people who had rushed to help him? Where was his dad, who should be calling him any second now?
If he had just died, this was a pitiful excuse for an afterlife. Was he in hell? As far as he could remember, he had lived a fairly good life…shouldn’t he be in heaven? Even though he wasn’t religious, he still believed in heaven and hell. But instead he was stuck here? He felt an Eire glow behind him, and turn around. What he saw was more nerve-wracking than anything else put together.
In the middle of the road, where the bus stop should have been, was a glowing sphere, about the size of a car. It was red in the centre, but the outsides where a light orange color. It was pulsing, beating like a heart, causing the ground beneath Wyatt’s feet to vibrate. But even more disturbing was, in the center of the glowing sphere, a pair of dark yellow eyes staring at him.
He stepped back, wishing this dream would end. Where the hell was he? He wanted to go home! But now, as well as two pairs of eyes, he could see an arm stretching out. It reached its hand out, as if offering Wyatt to take it. Was he supposed to go with this mystery hand? He stepped forwards, slowly raised his left arm towards the disembodied hand, which was now making a ‘Come Hither’ signal.
Before Wyatt got any closer to the red sphere, he felt something else. Something wrapping around his waist. Another arm, which was now dragging him away. He yelled out, but was silence as a somewhat warm hand was placed over his mouth. His energy was, yet again, fading away. His vision became blurred. It felt, for some reason, as though he was flying upwards. He lost all remaining consciousness, and let his head fall backwards into a strong, welcoming embrace.
