29
19th January, 2016
“I hold the gun / & wonder if an entry wound in the night / would make a hole as wide as morning” (from Always & Forever by Ocean Vuong)
There is something intensely magical that has kept me here. This one tiny pocket of the world that kept me from harm. Where its normal rules somehow didn’t reply. I don’t know what it is. If I was religious, I’d say a miracle. If I was a cold-blooded skeptic, I’d say dumb luck. If anyone was to ask, I’d call it something, somewhere in between. Something that has pinned me here.
Of course, I can’t help but wonder if I should feel guilty, as I sit here in my little pocket of magic. Even the rainiest of days look gentle now. The street outside is covered in muddied slush - but, no, the trails the cars leave in it are beautiful. It’s clear to me now that human lives do leave an impact. It’s the smallest moments that count. Creating a new path through a park in a cascade of other strangers’ feet; forgiving, if only in your head, another’s indiscretions; a smile to a passer-by.
Oh, well, if I’m going to tell this story, I ought to start at the beginning. Sorry, diary, for the obscure metaphors. To the reader who doesn’t know me - blame the fact that I’m a writer. I’m Sam, by the way. Five foot eleven. Sagittarius. Prepare my outfits before I go to sleep at night and get coffee at the same time each morning. Hang my laundry from the fire escape, read books in my one armchair (there’s no room in this apartment for anything more substantial), and count the hours by the angle of sunlight lounging across my windowsill.
The beginning, as with all beginnings, I didn’t recognise until much later. It was a lit cigarette, a tiny speck of ember in the dark (city-dark, not real dark, and so filled with light), jogged by the animated gesticulation of its wielder. A young man. He was leaning against the crumbling brick wall of the bar - and, although I couldn’t hear what he was saying, he struck me with such pure humanity that my legs, apparently having declared independence from my brain, were compelled to carry me forwards across the road to meet him.
There we go, the first part of The Accident! This was written for the Chiaroscuro Writing Extravaganza (Again) event, where we're all taking turns to collaborate on 11 different stories with 11 different prompts. I had a lot of fun starting this one off! I figured a strong character and narrative voice would be a good start and leave plenty of scope for everyone else's contributions - but I'm open to critique!
For the lovely people who are continuing to write this after me - have fun! Message me for the feature image for your part number if you want to match with mine, and message Chiaroscuro if you want the full original prompt.
Have a good day and remember no feeling is final,
~ lyliaa :)
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