Stories

Fifteen Minutes on the Job

‘Hurry’ he shouts in a whisper. ‘We haven’t much time.’

Reeling from a disorientation quite foreign to my knowledge I find myself following the man through the foreboding forest. Each step leading us deeper into darkness and the howls of some distant animal sound off in every direction causing me to lose the sense of mine own. Without a compass I follow him as my guide. My knees are bent from the pressure upon my back lugging a duffle over my shoulder. He tells me to hurry and the shuffling of my feet increases in speed. Panting, I jog to him carrying this duffle bag of unknown items. I try to recall the circumstances which bring me upon this inky page shrouded over by melancholy but nothing comes to mind.

‘Right here.’ He stops and looks expectantly towards me. My knees tremble to give way and I’m reminded of the duffle upon my shoulders. Swinging it to the ground before me I finally see the duffle. It is red and black in design and seeming to rip off from its seams with the excessive amount filled into it. I look up at him like a child first encountering the word tabula rasa. He looks at me and mutters ‘son of a’ he checks his watch ‘fifteen minutes, shit. Now what?!’ He paces back and forth grabbing his hair by the roots. ‘We have to wait 15 more minutes, I’m so done with this bullshit. You are such a pain man a fucking liability.’

Fifteen minutes ring in my ear as some alien concept. I had no idea what waiting 15 minutes was going to do especially when we were in a hurry a minute ago. In this bleak night we had only the creaking insects and howling animals at our reach. I didn’t understand what 15 minutes were to do. Looking at the duffle I finally say. ‘Shouldn’t we do what we came to do anyway?’

‘Shut up!’ He yelled coming closer allowing me to see the fury in his eyes. ‘Shouldn’t we do what we came to do’ he says mocking me. ‘Do you even know your name bitch?’ He spat the last word with much emphasis. I wasn’t bothered by the name calling but what did cause me to hyperventilate was the fact that I hadn’t an answer to his question which I’m starting to believe was rhetorical. He sees the anxiety in my eyes and smirks ‘just what I fucking thought. Dont worry too much, you’re probably Jill, Jack, or maybe even Jesus you decide that for yourself to feel better, to be a saint. This is the saintly you. The one who wrongs none and can’t recognize blood. You probably thought you were carrying bricks in there despite all the clues telling you otherwise. You are blind to a wholesome reality just like who you will become but at least that one has purpose and remembers his identity. You don’t. It’s like you are reborn starting anew yet so incredibly incomplete. You see one side of the coin each time. Right now you would say the glass is half full. But after you’d shatter that same glass. You don’t know the other side of that barbed fence. But you will and when you do it’s only the other side that exists, nothing else. They never mix. You meddle with your life each time by the magical number that is 15. I wonder what it would take for you to off yourself completely. I know I wanna kill you but you are good for work that’s for sure. The most valuable liability. Anyway, just sit down and wait for,’ looking at his watch he continues ‘9 minutes, then we’ll get back to work he’ll come back. Sit down meddlsome bitch and wait.’

Daily prompt Meddle

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