Friday, February 20, 2015

Final Destination - Haidji - Short Story

see also    SG - Suicide Game - ebook and book   and  SG - Suicide Game - Video

My Short Story "Final Destination"  is available  for free to my subscribers.

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Final Destination

After several rainy days, the sun decided to shine over the city.
From his bed, switching the alarm off for the third or fourth time, all that Mark could see was that there were no rain drops sliding down his windows.
Even living on the twentieth floor in one of several skyscrapers in the city did not enable him to have the sun shining into his bedroom.  The next building was too close.  No space for sunrays.  Only light filtered by skyscrapers’ morning shadows.  No wonder that it was not easy to wake up.  There was never really sunlight inside.
“No rain drops today, can it be that it is sunny outside?” said Mark to himself, going out of his bed.


“Why does the elevator take so long to come, every time I’m late?” murmured Mark, pressing the elevator’s call bottom again and again, as would a mysterious law of physics make it come faster if you push the button again…and again…and again.  Like parents who seem to believe that their teenage kids will go out of their beds faster in the morning if they call them several times, Mark kept pressing the bottom.

It neither works with teenagers, nor with elevators.

But maybe to try…makes you feel that you are doing something to rush things.  And when it finally happens, because it’s time for it, or because time passed by (in the elevator case), or they go finally go out of bed by their own will (in the teenagers’ case), it makes you feel good that you did something for it.
But the truth is, that does not help or work at all.

Eager to feel the sun on his face during the few steps to his workplace, it wasn’t easy for Mark to wait.
“Maybe I should take the stairs today,“ thought Mark, while he imagined himself running all the way down to the street.  He wanted to arrive earlier at work; it was his first “own office” and even having only two employees, it took him years to come to the position of being a Boss, and he wanted to be a good one.  

More people came to wait in front of the elevator.
Beatrice, who lived in the apartment across from his one, came too.
Beatrice was a harp player in the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra.  A graduate of the University of Toronto's Bachelor of Music program, she already performed works written for her.  Her presence was intimidating for Mark.  He never know what to say to her; every time he tried to impress her, he said the wrong thing, as would his words decide to be the most tuneless thing she would ever hear.  Yes, he had a crush on her.
Even so, they used to stop at Starbucks and drink a coffee together before work.  Walking mostly in silence.  Beatrice had a crush on Mark too.  

“Coffee today, Mark?” asked Beatrice.
“Sure,” answered Mark.  “I think I will take the stairs, go to Starbucks and wait for you in front of the building.  The elevator is taking years to come.  See you soon, Beatrice.”
Mark disappeared before Beatrice could say something.


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