Life In Glass

A story about a homeless mime with a haunting past...

Life In Glass

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            The streets bustled with excitement. People shoved each other out of their way, running under the light of the street lamps, sheltering themselves with their coats. Thunder boomed in the distance, warning the people of Gravesend there were only minuets until the real rain began to pour down. Water splashed endlessly as hurried feet stomped down upon the muddy puddles on the cobblestone street.  Voices shouted; some scared, some the giddy delight of the young children who knew no better.

            But whether the rain brought joy or worry, everyone was running. All except one, quiet, loner.

            Dexter Skeffington stood under the rain, motionless, silent. He watched the street empty as the people ran into their houses. His face paint streamed down his face, leaving him with nothing but his glass box to pound on.  Dexter walked slowly to the dark alley, unlit and cold, just as the heavy rains tumbled from the sky.

            Once in the alley, Dexter curled up against the back of ‘Smith’s Deli’ under the black and white awning.  He leaned his head against the wall, allowing the hard pitter-patter of the rain put him to sleep.

           

            The morning sun was a relief, especially for a homeless mime. People were out again-   bartering and chatting, whistling and laughing. Dexter stepped out into the sun, letting it soak down to his bones.  He allowed himself to be free for a moment, but soon, he was back inside of his glass box, a place that haunted him.

            Inside his box, he was trapped. He couldn’t be anyone but  ‘Look Mummy! A mime!’.  But couldn’t be Dexter either. Dexter haunted him more than his glass box did.

 

            ‘Give me Liam and I’ll let you both live.’

            The lady shook he head, clinging to her son.

            ‘Well then I hope you enjoy dying.’ Dexter pulled out his gun. The lady threw herself in front of the boy.

            ‘Take me instead!’

            Dexter shook his head. ‘You know what I want.’

            The shoot rang through the room as the lady fell to the ground in a heap of red, laced dress. She laid there, breathing shallow breaths as the blood seeped from her shoulder.

            ‘Come on boy. Time to go.’ Dexter grabbed the boy by the arm. ‘Say bye to Mummy.’

 

            Dexter walked down the alley, thinking of the boy and how he had raised him to be strong. But as soon as Liam was old, he ran away, leaving Dexter with nothing but his glass box to pound on.

            Dexter passed a young child in the dank ally. Immediately, Dexter stood up straight, bringing his hand to his forehead, saluting. The boy stopped and watched as Dexter began looking around with his hand still on his forehead. He swooped around, then stopped, standing up straight once more. He waved, and started to run, but banged into his invisible glass. He began to pound.

            The boy laughed, yelling out for his mother. “Look, Mummy! A mime!”

 Not moments later, the mother came around the corner and grabbed her son’s shoulders.

            “Come along now. Mimes are dangerous.”

            The lady pushed her son along down the ally. Dexter watched them walk down the ally, defeated. He wasn’t dangerous. Well, not anymore at least.

            The only thing in this world he wanted to do was please children. The only thing they ever did was run away. He wished he could be someone else. But it was too late for that. Dexter was a monster outside of his box. Inside his box, he was someone else. Not someone he wanted to be, but it was his only place he felt safe. Dexter resumed trudging down the ally with his chin low, his hair in his face.

He didn’t realize when he was out of the ally, bumping into a woman.

Dexter stumbled back, as the lady fell to the ground. Dexter put his hands out, as if apologizing, lifting her up from the ground. He put his arm under her’s, and knew who it was the moment she looked up defensively at him. She didn’t notice it was he, covered in face paint and dirt. But he knew it was her.

The shoot rang through the room as the lady fell to the ground in a heap of red, laced dress. She lay there, breathing shallow breaths as the blood seeped from her shoulder.

Dexter dropped her, paralyzed with fear. He dashed off, running down the street. The guilt chased him.  

            Once more, Dexter was left with nothing but his glass box to pound on.

 

 

Author's Note

Once again; feel free to comment! Thanks.
How can I be more discriptive about the alley??