One Minute Walk

A horror-fantasy short story with an attempt at a deeper meaning by Matthew W. "All authors take from their own life into their work."

One Minute Walk

It was on a late Wednesday night that I reached the peak of my own comical interest. In other words it was break time at my underrated and underappreciated by the typical townsfolk job. That's right, it's seen as a comedy show in my overexerted mind and quite honestly I can't see how it couldn't be. "Charles can you resupply the bags even though the previous worker before you obviously didn't care enough to?" Sure. Charles can surely do the easiest and most polite thing for his fellow co-worker. God, when one is self narrating it's said often they're lonely with themselves, again, I'm a comedy show aren't I?

Once every single one of this bagging cubical is filled, I'll finally be able to grab that little timer, set it for a good ten minutes, then head out on that... small walk. Jeez, what a sense of melancholy and dread that floods my chest, mind, and head when I even bother to fathom that walk. I'll shake it off, come on Charles, you can shake it off... That damn song. Shake it off stuck in my head from when Susana and I played with that bouncy kids ball out in the pouring rain. Amazing how the brightest memories can make an individual feel so lonely. Here I go again, sighing at the thought of her.

"Come on chap! Cheer up!" 

Once again, another sigh, this time quicker paced in hopes Erin won't catch me. 

"What is it, you always seem to think I'm rather sad don't you?"

"I know you're sad Charles. It shows everyday, and if I had to be a betting girl, it's a woman that's on your mind, is it not?"

"What? And why in blazing hot hell would you think a woman is what's on my mind with all these other intrusive values of life surrounding me constantly?"

"Simple. You have the face of a heartbroken man. You look at me not as a woman but as a friend. Also not to mention your hostile attitude towards all the other female workers Charlie... you're the definition of heartbroken dear."

This isn't ordinary... since when does Erin or anyone else here care of my love interest or personal life for that matter. Everyone seeks a life of solitude in a social world it always seems. At least to me that is... Humans. Social creatures who have a tendency to be so utterly selfish at any glance or mention of their own benefit. Then again I am one. I'm not to be left out of the bunch unfortunately. After all, Erin isn't wrong, not wrong in the slightest.

"Alrighty then. This isn't like you to comment on such an odd topic at a place like work. What's your fancy to know of? So what if I'm heartbroken, is it a crime to care for someone?"

"Not in the slightest Charlie, not in the slightest."

Wait... why is she walking away? Who does that? Who comes up to someone, strikes a match in their mind, then leaves the fire burning? Does she not realize that's a fire hazard to my mind... to my soul... what the hell does she mean by 'not in the slightest'? What the hell, what the hell, what the hell, what the hell, what the hell, what th-

"Charles!"

"Huh? Wha?"

"You finished the bags right? Take your ten quick alright, it's gonna be rather slow tonight."

"Alright."

Come on Charles get a hold on yourself. Anxiety is but a fear, fear is the most powerful negative emotion for it causes anxiety and anger... and love is the most powerful emotion of all. The warmth and happiness it brings... the fire in one's heart burns even with the smallest amount of kindling doesn't it. That's why I'm stuck in my own mind like this isn't it? I better grab the timer, it's never set to ten minutes. Lemme set it real quick.

That cold, brisk, and bold enough to come every year regardless of the harm it brings, air. I can literally feel my lungs freezing and I've only stepped ten inches outside the store for Christ sake. Come on... I have to get away from this ninety-nine cent store to the little hallway mall. One, two, one, two Charlie. Oh.. oh wow. No matter how cold and dark the night is, nothing can beat looking at those shimmering stars above. I see her though. 

"Susana! I'm sorry. Listen, please, if you can, if you hear me... listen! I know I messed up everything, I know I treated you wrongfully and then even handled it wrongfully but I was afraid... Susie please... if you can hear me wherever you are... I love you. To the moon and beyond, and back."

Who am I kidding. She doesn't love me anymore. Curse you wretched flaming tears from my heart, why must your burns onto my cheeks remind me of this feeling. This heat. My love for her. It stings, it all stings, I feel alone. Mom? Dad? Anyone? Family? Friends? Random stranger who I'll never know likely in my life, look at me d****t! Someone please.. help.. I feel it, I'm on fire. It's burning. It's all BURNING

"OW!"

Great. Look what you did idiot, bumped straight into a glass door that you use literally everyday...moron. There's heat inside thankfully... Time to take my place on this old stupid brown wooden and black metal bench, again. I don't even know how I make it through that walk everyday. It's only a measly minute anyway, how can so many awful feelings and thoughts come from fear in only a minute? And what the hell is it that I fear anyway? That's a dumb question Charles. I know, I know. It's the fear. The one fear that can drive a sane man to insanity huh? The fear of never seeing that person again or speaking to them. Susana I wish you knew how I was right now. Not to make you feel guilt or pay for something you didn't do, but just for your help. Your warmth.

That feeling. A different one, so peaceful, so loving, so kind, and so perfect feeling. I remember. Why... am I smiling thinking about you laying against me in the car, holding each other in the cold to stay warm like on a cold night like tonight... my head feeling a peace and safety it had never felt until I met and got to know you. My chest... I can feel it burning again, the first feeling, no...stop please... I know she doesn't love me anymore, I know, I know, stop. It feels so hot in here, like a sting ray stinging my heart, never got to go to the aquarium together, never got to drive you anywhere, never, never, never AAAAAA. STOP THE BURNING, I CAN'T BREATHE, SMOKE ENTERING, LUNGS, HELP. ANYONE. WHY ARNT MY SCREAMS COMING OUT AND INSTEAD JUST CRYING. Are these tears form the smoke, or from the emotions of missing her so so SO SO THE BUILDING IS ON FIRE. ALL THE ROSES ARE BURNING, ALL THE PEOPLE HAVE LEFT, left me here gagged to not scream for help, the fire taking out every bit of memory this beautiful little small town hallway has to offer. YELL CHARLES, YELL FOR HELP, OH GOD WHAT DO I DO. 

The timer is...it's warped. I can't tell but it might say, what, a minute of this so called "break" left??? What is a break from the world where you lose the person you care about so so much. I guess, with the fire turning my bench slowly to black ash. I guess, I guess I'll let the anxiety win for tonight, I'll let the depression make it seem so gloomy, I can't see through the smoke that is now blinding and I hear screams of all those bad past memories of hurting her feelings that I wish I could take the pain upon myself. Oh. Oh Susana please know I'm so sorry and I'm burning for my sin. My lungs are full of toxicity, all the poison they deserve. Susana, I know you can't hear me, but know this. I love you... honestly, and genuinely. It.. doesn't hurt to admit that.

Hold on. I'm gasping for breath, I can breathe! I'm alive! I'm breathing in fresh night are, where am I?

Beep Beep Beep, Beep Beep Beep.

The timers going off? Is my break over? What the hell?! I could of swore not ten minutes ago I was slowly being burned to death by the arson of forbidden love? Are my co workers ok? Wait... That night sky, those twinkling stars, that cold fresh air. I'm on the minute walk back to my work? I see you stars. I see how you tease and mock me with thought of Susana dancing in the night freely amongst you. She's free. She's happy? I hope.

Before I enter work again I find myself stopping again every night in this exact spot to look to the stars. To say these eight letters.

I love you.

Reviews

[Pluviophile]

I am well aware the story starts in a third person, and quickly changes to first. I see nothing wrong with this.