It's technically Saturday right now, but who says you can't post a Friday Fantasy on a Saturday!?
Anyway...
DEMY'S FRI. FANTASY!!!
Chapter 2: The Suspect
I'm seventeen now. I've been looking for the man that killed my family for almost two years and I have made little to no progress. In fact, It's been found out by the crimelords of the country that I have the secret to them gaining money and power. The weapon schematics. Every blueprint that I memorized has caused me more trouble than you would think. Take right now for instance. Right now, if I wasn't hiding in an alley, I would've been dead a few minutes ago. I'm getting tired of goons with guns chasing me.
A gun shot begs my attention and I reluctantly turn my head around to see a person on the sidewalk drop. Another gun shot, another person, and so on. They have no problem making me feel guilty about not going with them. One more shot fires and some tiny peices of red brick fall on my head. I look up to see a crater in the wall. I'm lucky their aim isn't better. I stand from my hiding place and run further into the alley. I stumble over some discarded cardboard boxes, but manage to get out of the alley before the men with guns catch up.
I hastily make my way to my house without anyone following me. Once I get inside, I try to relax and sit down on the couch in the living room. A tiny amount of dust clouds up as I sit. I've never been one for housekeeping and I don't usually get to come home often. It feels good to relax for once, I've been on the run on and off for two years. The relaxation almost takes my attention away from the bullet wound on my left shoulder. It's good that they only hit me once, if it had been more I probably wouldn't have made it back here.
After a few minutes of silence, I decide to turn on the TV. The TV signal often gets messed up and the picture is usually fuzzy. I flip past a few channels and stop for a second when I hear something on the news.
"--the murder of the Xyles family. " I hear the reporter say just as I stop on the channel.
"Hm?" It draws my attention in quickly. It's been two years and they're talking more about it now? Could they have another suspect? They show a picture of a rather young man on the screen.
"Joseph Briggs has claimed he was not guilty, but evidence has proved that he is the man responsible for the deaths of Walter, Peter, and James Xyles," the reporter continues. "Briggs is sentenced to death for his crimes and is to be excicuted in just two days."
I can't believe it. They found out who it was before I did? All I've been doing for two years is looking for the man --other than when I was being kidnapped and tortured by people wanting the weapons-- and they found him?! I can't beleive this. I wanted to be the one to catch him and cause him the pain that he's caused me. Now I'll never get to.
I turn off the TV in anger and walk up to my room, which I hardly ever enter anymore. I open a drawer and grab a relitively clean shirt and take off the bloody one I'm wearing. I walk across the hall to the bathroom and take a quick shower to wash the blood off of my shoulder.
Later, when I walk back down the stairs, I look at a picture on the wall of my family. Me and Peter are hard to tell apart. Our blonde hair with curls in almost the exact same places, youthful innocence in our dark blue eyes.
Peter and I had a brotherly bond that nothing could break. We were each others' best friends and we barely ever spent time apart. We had a sort of telepathy between us. I could think something and he could think something, and we would just sit in silence and have conversations like that. Our mom would laugh and tease us about it, in a joking way, of course.
Our mom used to look beautiful. Her long blonde curly hair, and eyes that were almost the exact same as ours. I remember her voice being as smooth as silk. Me and Peter listened to her voice every night when she would tuck us in and pray with us; her prayers made both me and Peter feel safe every night. She was always very happy, which is reflected upon her face in the picture.
Our dad however looked odd in the group, with his very short brown hair and muddy brown eyes, his forehead wrinkled from deep contemplation over the years. He seldom smiled and did even less after mom died. I guess I can't blame him though, I don't smile much either. I guess I inherited that from him, along with my photographic memory.
I miss them all so much.
The picture fuels anger and I take my pocket knife from by beltloop and flip it open. I throw the knife as hard as I can and it flies across the room and sticks deep in the wall. I go and retrieve my knife and put it back in it's place on my belt loop with my anger quelled.
I glance at a wall clock and see that it's getting late, and realize that I haven't eaten all day. When I walk to the kitchen I check every cabinet and I don't find anything. I run up to my room and grab my wallet and put it in the pocket of my blue jeans.
The sun is setting when I step outside and walk into town. It's times like this that I'm glad that I have a photographic memory, the sunset is amazing. It's nice to have things like this stored in my memory for when I need something nice to think about. And I need that a lot.
I get to town and walk into a diner, sit down, and order some food. After a few minutes of sitting and thinking to myself I get my food and wolf it down kind of like a hungry hyena. When I get done eating I go over to talk to one of the older ladies that works there, Ms. Finnis. I like talking to her when I come here. She's fun to talk to. And she's one of the few people who knows me really well. Like that I'm actually not dead.
"So, what you been up to lately, James?" Ms. Finnis asks.
"Oh, same old, same old," I say, "Getting chased, getting kidnapped, getting shot. The usual." I give a small laugh.
"Is that so? You better be kickin' their butts in return."
"Sometimes. When I'm still intact."
"Hmhm. Just try to keep yourself alive. All right?"
"I'll try. It's not as easy as you might think, though."
She giggles a little. "Smart boy like you should know how to keep himself alive."
"What can I say? When it comes to danger, I'm like a magnet."
"Ah, kid. Ya just gotta show 'em who's boss!" She smiles and holds up a fist.
I laugh aloud and say, "I'm not very threatining. Probably even less than you."
She laughs in return. "Well, It's not that I don't enjoy our chats, but I gotta get back to work."
"Alright. I'll see you later then."
"Bye, James." she calls and waves as I walk out the door.
I wave back and as I step outside someone runs into me from the side and we both fall down.
"Hey! Watch where you're--" I look at the man's face.
Joseph Briggs?
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I hope you liked it! I'm less self-conscious now that Meg told me that she liked the first chapter. I'm sorry the chapters are short, but I kinda like to quit the chapter where there's somewhat or a cliffhanger.
Fly on, (even if you can't fly)
Demy Nom
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