Frantic pace

Heels kicking fast on the blacktop, cars swirling through like mad, people chatter like an echo from the depths of hell.

Her head was going to explode, at least this picture is what se had in mind, her head in pieces blown, following a splatter pattern the CSI people have never seen. She quickly grabbed her cup of coffee from the table. New York was not illustrious as it has been described. It was more of a place where depending on where you where with your life seemed sometimes an abyss of unperceived fathom or a fun roller coaster ride and an amusement park walk bread out of  dreams little happy kids have while covered in the secure blanket of their loving parents.

In her twenties she never thought that these where the streets of tomorrow she would walk upon. After a tormenting decade of  misfortunes and violence, she was at last not looking back. Not running away. She was at last safe. But the scars left in her where deeply carved into her soul, making it difficult to pursue her purpose.

Walking towards her office building she caught a glimpse of a bizarre  event. The young woman in her grey business suit and cream heels, with a body of a porn star, luscious and inviting, was seductively walking across the street when another woman, in her forties, tall and thin, wearing plain jeans, a crop top and running shoes stopped her in the middle of the crossing, 10 seconds before the lights turned green and whispered something in her ear. The young woman then froze as the tall woman just walked away, smiling, no, greening would be the description, 5 seconds till the lights are green, the young woman still frozen there, car horns started to sing along, engines getting ready to burst and carry the cars ricocheting off the stillness . 3 seconds to go. The young woman swayed her head towards traffic, she opened her eyes wide like waking up from a long hour sleep violently. She raised her right hand towards the drivers and alerted them she was going to finally cross the street. And so she did.

Puzzled by this, she continued her stroll towards her office. She had thirty minutes to spare before her presence was needed so she decided to try and take in all the things that made her synapses dance like crazy while in New York. Noise, people, smells, the cement, the towering glass castles, the time ticking away.

She tried to remember the faces of the two women from the incident before. She failed miserably. She could easily describe both their bodies and their clothes, but not their faces.

Suddenly a burst of wind came rushing through the cramped street, something got into her left eye causing her to close both her eyelids. It was burning, bring like acid or hot coal or a fire iron, it was hurting like nothing before.

She stopped and tried to open her eyes, her glances already producing enough tears to use in a romantic movie viewing or in a funeral. Tears rushing out like the Stygian river, black,hurting, endless. She managed to open her eyes. Still watery. Her vision blurry, unsettled. She tried to find her portable mirror thing in her back. In the far end , near the bottom, between all those stuff she was carrying everyday, from which she could not remember other than her wallet and keys and electronic ID card granting access to her office building, she got a grasp of it.

She opened it trying to find out what was in her eye.

In owe, in turmoil and with her heart beat climbing unknown heights of function, seconds before she passed away she saw in that mirror something that made her release a scream that would make the mountains tremble and the earth shake, the ghosts and demons flee and Earth to stop still.

She saw not her face,not her but somebody else. The woman in the grey business suit. Her face, smashed, bloody and cerebral fluid oozing through the cracks.


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