Hunt of my hide

A man has an epiphany about his "boring" life and suddenly everything changes...

They are after me.  God knows who the hell they are, but one thing is certain, I am in some deep s**t.  The sad thing, even more than knowing pretty much nothing about them, is that I didn't do anything!!  Literally anything in my whole damned life...  I haven't just been normal, I have been downright boring.  

Boring childhood.  Boring job. Boring life!

Its all been devoid of any great emotion, happy or sad.  I haven't had any great successes.  I haven't even had any real failures either.  

My first jolt into living, and its this hunt of my hide.

I didn't think much of the first clue that someone out there was trying to kill me.  In fact, it threw me off completely.  

It was a normal day at lunch with the guys from the firm.  We were cracking accounting jokes.  Well, I was only laughing politely.  I didn't really fit into this world in which I belonged.  I went through the motions, but no one knew me.  If I disappeared, they would realize something was missing, eventually, but they wouldn't know what it was.

Anyway, Arthur was telling a story.  And the others were hanging on his every word.

How did he do that?  How did he sit at this round table, where we should all be equals, and still manage to be at the head?   

Accountants aren't glamorous.  But even we have our cool guys.  The ones we look up to and try to emulate.  Artie was that guy.  

At that moment, I wished that I was him.  He wasn't that great looking.  Already balding at 32, his unremarkable brown hair never looked combed.  His best feature was a full mustache.  But its magnificence looked out of place on his sallow face. It made his watery blue eyes look even smaller behind their trendy little glasses.  

But he was our God.  Even mine.

It was while I was staring out the window, imagining twirling my own magnificently imaginary mustache and hearing sycophantic laughter ring around me, that I spotted a shifty giant outside.  

He was dressed in black.  Head to foot.  Black beanie, dark glasses, a leather jacket and gloves.  Against the new fallen snow and rather empty street, he stood out stark.  He had one hand in his pocket and the other was resting flat against the glass of the window.

He was staring intently at our table, his mouth twisted into a mean grimace.  As I watched, he pulled his hand out of his pocket and where his other hand had rested a moment before, now was the barrel of a gun.  I tried to pinpoint his line of vision and realized he was looking at Arthur.  

I gasped, some heroic force moving me to action.  A similar scene from the James Bond movie last night on fast forward in my head.  I was the only one who had noticed, so it was I who would have to do something!  What though?  Push him down under the table?  A waiter was passing with a silver tray full of empty glasses.  I grabbed it from him and used it to shield myself as I rushed towards Arthur.  

It happened quickly.  I pushed Arthur down with one hand, holding the tray with my other. For a couple of seconds, the sounds of gunshots reverberated through the air, and then just as suddenly there was silence.  And blood.  My eyes closed watching its dark beauty spread across the floor.  My last thought was that the color was more umber than red. 

Author's Note

This is supposed to be a full short story, but this is what I have so far. Criticism is more appreciated then praise;) Although that will do too!

Reviews

[Reeti]

this is well-penned. I like the description of Arthur and the other appealing narrative skills you have displayed here. but, in the beginning, you mentioned "'they' are after me". To the end, a single giant man appears who tries to kill Arthur. Is 'they' being used to depict his sentiments over how the first person narrator was not having an exciting life and everyone else might have been trying to lull his desires to have a less banal life?

i think your story represents Arthur as going on with his life without the ardor for it. He has been naive over standing out among groups of people. for that, i also think he's like a teenager who is yet to unravel his ultimate dream. it's a bit of a shock that he dies at the end. or else, he might have lost consciousness.

[Jamie Raintree]

That's where you're leaving it?! Lol! Talk about a cliffhanger.

I know you want criticism but I'm sorry--It's fantastic. I love your writing more every time I read it. In particular, the paragraph about the accounting jokes was perfection. I loved every word!

Your voice here is so enthralling I couldn't look away and you definitely had me wanting more.

So here's my criticism--it's too short. ;)

[Evita]

Reeti: My reference to "they", does actually refer to villains the author knows are coming after him in more than the figurative sense ( as in an effort to change him). Since the story is not yet complete, I haven't introduced all the characters. The "giant" is only one henchman.

I like that you took an effort to think about Arthur, but as you'll see soon enough Arthur's thoughts are not as important as what he represents (which is a life lived). The narrator is the main character and it is his story through and through...all the other character's only serve to propel him forward.

I have this story's plot thought out, but not all of its scenes...I am unsure how to execute it to the conclusion I have planned...and so it is still unfinished.