She Looked Pretty

the boy wound up plastered against the glass back door.  he was covered in blood.

          he left dripping tracks in his wake.

___

          It was a normal, apathetic weekday afternoon. I had just finished my last assignment for the night and was curled up in the crook of my favorite, worn-out old  couch that had existed in this house for as long as I had. My only companion for the time being was my dog, resting her chin on my foot. I took a picture. Deciding that she was too adorable not to be shared with the entire world, or at least the people who still cared about old fashioned photographs taken by a common nobody.

          With millions of things swirling around in my disconnected mind, I pulled myself off of the couch and hummed aloud to the soft music in my ears. I ambled over towards the kitchen (I was singing at the top of my lungs by the time I got there; after all, I was home alone and some opportunities are too good to pass up.). I began to assemble myself some lunch. It was half created and half compiled of leftovers from Christmas dinner. I was a sucker for peanut butter sandwiches, and New England has some of the best butternut squash known to mankind.

          The peanut butter, I distinctly remember, stuck to the top of my mouth and wedged its way into every single crevice of my braces. I was beginning the laborious process of freeing my teeth from their sticky confinements when I turned on the television. My favorite old show was running on reruns, and I could not help but to completely lose myself in their world.

The episode ended. I was kind of disappointed, and so I began to sing again.

          I was so busy killing the chorus to my favorite song that I almost missed the boy standing by my door.

You can't blame me though; who in their right mind looks for things that they don’t expect to see?

___

          the boy looked around; he did not know this territory.  he briefly considered that he may be lost, but decided against it.  his head still hurt.  that must be it; he just had a concussion.  he saw a house through the dense trees.  he started towards it. maybe they would have a first aid kit there.

          he could really use a drink.  and some food; meat, maybe.

___

          I was lost in my own little world. My iPod was blasting the alternate music that no one else listened to, and I was dancing in the living room like the idiot I am. I laughed as my imaginary partner spun me around and complemented my dance skills as we crossed the room again and again. My dog was barking along with my laughter.

          I heard a thump against the back door and immediately lost my light-hearted mood. Some poor bird had probably flown into the clear glass, again and once again committing accidental suicide. Being the soft, compassionate fop that I was, I hit pause and made my way through the dining room to the sitting area (I used to call it the couch corner). I quickly opened the shades, prepared to steel myself into resetting a broken wing or two.

          Instead, I simply screamed.

___

          he wished that it would stop making that noise. why is it making that noise? his ears rang with the reverberations that traveled through the clear wall.  for some reason, his limbs suddenly decided not to support him any longer.  he fell.   

          the ground was cold.  he realized that he only had on trousers.  they felt funny; perhaps that white stuff was contaminating his minimal coverings. they felt heavier, too.  he stared at the fabric, puzzled. they were turning a darker color that spread across the fibers.

          looking closer, he was a little surprised to find that even the parts that did not have the white stuff on them were still darker than they should be.  but a different kind of dark.

          what was that shade called?  oh, yes, he recalled.

red.

___

          He fell. Oh my gosh; he just…fell. Just like that. His knees sort of buckled, and he fell sideways into the snow. I couldn’t look away.

          He was sort of a beautiful, terrifying, stark contrast to the pure white snow. He was only wearing jeans, which were quickly becoming soaked to the skin. But he had this, um, unexplainable blood all over him.

          Actually, it was clearly explained blood. What else could it be? He had about three million cuts and scrapes all over him; one above his eyebrow, one under his nose, one on his shoulder, and about two billion on his feet and abdomen. The thick, crimson blood was matted all throughout his hair to that he looked like some freaky cosplayer or something. He even had twigs and things nestled in there, no lie. He looked a little confused, like he wasn’t sure how he wound up on the ground, or why his jeans were wet.

Upon closer inspection, his eyes turned out to be the most brilliant shade of blue, like the ocean or the sky was completely gathered up and put there. But…..I strained my eyes through the glass door. His pupils were rimmed with streaks of scarlet that stemmed into his lovely irises. I wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He just clearly needed help.

I mean, I was home alone, I didn’t know the guy, and he was bleeding like crazy; the snow around him was slowly becoming pink. I couldn’t let him in, my parents would never forgive me.

I looked past him out into the woods. I saw that he had left shuffling tracks of blood in the otherwise undisturbed snow.

Maybe I should call the cops or something, or at least an ambulance.

___

he was cold.  he was having trouble focusing.  he tried picking one object to focus on.  the thing behind the window.  it was a… a… a…

___

While I was panicking and trying to figure out what to do, he looked directly at me. I froze, staring into his transfixing eyes. What did he expect? Was I supposed to do something?

___

the word came to him: girl. girl.  it was a girl.  he just kept looking at it, her, and hoped she would know what to do with his headache.  he really wanted to be warm.

___

I decided that that was it; I unlocked the door.

All too late, I heard my dog bark out a warning.

___

she had looked so warm; she really did.  he looked down at her, lying in the blanket of white.

her blonde hair looked good with red.

Author's Note

Sorry the opening is really long. how do you feel about the changing perspectives? Is it too confusing?

Reviews

[erinwrites]

I liked the perspective changes, but maybe use something other than paragraph breakers to switch them? I was thinking you could either change the font or use italics or even use different colours? For me, personally, those page breakers kind of make it appear as if there's been a lapse in time. I did really like it though, the ending was intense!

[cemily]

Thank you!