running from danger can be tiring

I was frozen in a place as the lights trailed across my face. The blinds a mess in the wind battering the filing cabinet that was wedged had against it. Glimpses of the docks just beyond the window sill flutter in my vision. The fits of hysterics in my mind contradicted with the comfortable high back office chair and the bustling nightly antics of impatiently high pitched forklift sirens crowding the warehouse upon which the office sits. Perched over me with smug self satisfaction the red suited man arches across the shadows to drag a gloved hand across my extended arm down to my knuckles. The worn brown leather rough against my skin, pulling at the raised hair along my forearm, A menacing smirk as he lifted my hand aloft by the wrist. “I’m sorry sir but this was inevitable” he touted boastfully as he fumbled in the desk drawer. My eyes glanced down as the light struck the fruits of his rummaging. “Now I don’t want answers sunny, I want apologies and you aint to forthcoming.” I could see he’d managed to grasp a letter opener, not the weapon of choice but unpleasant enough to bring about my unwarranted demise. The suspense slightly ruined by an ill chosen moustache, the whole hostage situation feeling a bit to close to pantomime to be concerning. The fear once imposed slowly dripping away to reveal the startled scarecrow of a man behind the suit and eerie smile. “You leave it to me, ill have my secretary right on it” I offered. “Clerical errors and alike and budgetary constraints and council approval” words without meaning thrown feverishly before me, my stepping stones to freedom. He forgot his menace momentarily to contemplate the string of nonsense laid before him. My chance had arrived, a flying leap across the office toward the door, tuck and roll into the hallway. I’d done it, escape was mine and I lauded it up with a merry skip to my car, the red suited man lent carelessly against my driver’s door. Seem m escape blinded me t he concept of alerting authorities or even engaging bystanders for help. Oh well, lessons learnt.

running from danger can be tiring

rowand

Sydney, Australia

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Artist's Description

short story of unknown hostage and unknwn red suited type

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