Wednesday, 27 June 2007
10:33:48 PM (GMT)
Heavy footsteps, a blur of grey wall and cracked concrete, the rush of passing wind,
no scent, no taste.
Around a corner, 'further further must get away', uneven shouts to get here,
footsteps even heavier, body tiring.
Panting breath, grey chainlink fence, fench cluched beneath scrabbling hands, sea
breeze, no taste.
Clamber over fence, 'keep going further further no not here further on', feet hit the
ground with a thud, energy from fresh adrenalin.
Quiet persistant chatter, a blur of coloured houses, welcome splashes of rain, fried
foods and fat, no taste.
Trip on loose ground, 'get up get up get up go go go', shouting getting louder,
clawing at earth to get up, nose aching.
Explosion of voice and music and electronic noise, blur of grey ocean and neon light,
aching nose, blood, blood.
Dart across roads, 'pier 2 he said pier 2 safe soon safe', noise of the crowd
dulling, slap of feet of boardwalk, adrenalin lots of adrenalin.
Whistle of wind, tall figure end of pier, aching nose, blood, blood.
Run into arms of figure, 'safe at last safe here made it here', concerned voice
slowly making sense, hands running over nose, tiredness.
The figures approach, watched with fear and met by a steely gaze. The figures stop,
look at the man standing in front of their sitting victim. "Shit, it's a cop!" Fast
escape by the figures, met by a shrug and sigh of relief.
The man leans over the runner, continues to examine the nose. Runner swallows as much
blood as possible and speaks. "Thank you Mr Carlisle." The man meets the runner's
gaze, deep brown eyes to light grey eyes, and a smile crosses his thin lips. "I told
you, whilst I'm off-duty, you call me Peter." He pulls a paper napkin from his
pocket, tells the runner to hold it to their nose, guides them from pier 2. They sit
in a small chip-shop, still open for the drunks and the ones on their way back from
the Pleasure Beach. They discuss how the nose-bleed was gained, who was after the
runner, why they were after the runner, what could be done to stop them. "Thanks
again...Peter. They'd have put me in hospital!" The man smiles at the name, the
gratitude, the taste of chips. Picking up another, he eats it quickly and looks at
the runner thoughtfully. "You're welcome. You know, I think my time in Blackpool will
be an eventful one..."
Comments and constructive criticism welcome.