He felt his stomach drop as he fell down from the fire escape into the alleyway. Instantly, he felt his knee pop.
Without even looking he knew that the patella had shifted across the front of his leg and that he was in trouble. He looked up at the top of the fire escape and thought that he could see the beam of a torch playing across the roof. He whimpered quietly into his chest.
In the films the hero would simply hammer the knee back into place and then pull himself to his feet with grit and determination, but as he tested even the simplest flex of his leg, the pain that speared across the knee told him that this wasn’t going to be possible.
He scanned the alley ahead of him. There was a large bin that seemed to serve the restaurant that backed onto it. There were pieces of an old bike stacked against the side of the wall and there was a wet cardboard box next to the bin. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to get into the bin and he wasn’t sure what help the bike parts would be, but he felt a measure of confidence that he could get to the cardboard box.
The adrenaline of the drop had passed now and he was left only with the agonising reality of the injury. Somehow he arched his back and turned onto his side, keeping the injured leg off the ground. Above him he heard the noise of someone stepping onto the fire escape. He hunched himself up and pushed against the ground with his good leg. With his hands clawing at the ground and stones digging into his palms, he slowly inched his way sluglike towards the box.
He didn’t dare turn to look behind him as he reached the side of the alley and quickly pulled the box over him. He nearly wept out loud as he pushed his injured leg against the wall and somehow draped the box over him. He smelled the odour of whoever, or whatever had been using the box before him.
Then he heard the feet as they dropped nearly silently into the alleyway. He heard the scuff of the stones as the feet searched around. Looking up, he saw the beam of light as it cast around the alley way. He closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable.
Andrew ShanahanS410: DEEP
The crew pulled on the thick, wet rope that clung to the side of the trawler. “Anything?” “Nothing!” Four faces peered into the black rising swells that pitched the boat up in the air. “Keep pulling.” “But…” “Keep pulling.” The captain stalked from the deck and the hands watched as his face reappeared in the murky window that overlooked the deck of the ship. He shouted something they couldn’t hear at them. Without a word they turned themselves back to the rope. The three hands’ eyes met as th...
Andrew ShanahanS410: BREATHE
Music plays. A calm, swell of chords that holds you steady. We begin. As you take a breath in, you close your eyes. You breathe out and your eyes want to open. Let them if it adds to your feeling of security. But as you breathe – in…out – you feel the need to open your eyes reduces. Your eyes are closed. Gradually, like the emergence of dawn, you start to become aware of the world inside your mind. It is a place of great beauty and a serene, epic grandeur. You are aware that you are sat comfo...
Andrew ShanahanS410: THOUGHTS
All the ideas and thoughts that coalesced in my brain between 19:41 and 19:51 A cosy ninja. Furry slippers. Marshmallows on the points of his shuriken. The Smiths on a camping holiday. The 100 Acres Wood implies the existence of a 100 acres wouldn’t. I bet The Fonz really struggled to buy batteries. What size would you like Mr Fonzarelli? Aaaaaaaaaaay. Floating, floating, floating, floating, floating, then not floating Tesla superchargers, Tesla superduperchargers, Tesla supercalifragilistice...
Former Guardian/Times journalist, now writing fiction full-time. Having fun playing with web3 publishing.
He felt his stomach drop as he fell down from the fire escape into the alleyway. Instantly, he felt his knee pop.
Without even looking he knew that the patella had shifted across the front of his leg and that he was in trouble. He looked up at the top of the fire escape and thought that he could see the beam of a torch playing across the roof. He whimpered quietly into his chest.
In the films the hero would simply hammer the knee back into place and then pull himself to his feet with grit and determination, but as he tested even the simplest flex of his leg, the pain that speared across the knee told him that this wasn’t going to be possible.
He scanned the alley ahead of him. There was a large bin that seemed to serve the restaurant that backed onto it. There were pieces of an old bike stacked against the side of the wall and there was a wet cardboard box next to the bin. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to get into the bin and he wasn’t sure what help the bike parts would be, but he felt a measure of confidence that he could get to the cardboard box.
The adrenaline of the drop had passed now and he was left only with the agonising reality of the injury. Somehow he arched his back and turned onto his side, keeping the injured leg off the ground. Above him he heard the noise of someone stepping onto the fire escape. He hunched himself up and pushed against the ground with his good leg. With his hands clawing at the ground and stones digging into his palms, he slowly inched his way sluglike towards the box.
He didn’t dare turn to look behind him as he reached the side of the alley and quickly pulled the box over him. He nearly wept out loud as he pushed his injured leg against the wall and somehow draped the box over him. He smelled the odour of whoever, or whatever had been using the box before him.
Then he heard the feet as they dropped nearly silently into the alleyway. He heard the scuff of the stones as the feet searched around. Looking up, he saw the beam of light as it cast around the alley way. He closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable.
Andrew ShanahanS410: DEEP
The crew pulled on the thick, wet rope that clung to the side of the trawler. “Anything?” “Nothing!” Four faces peered into the black rising swells that pitched the boat up in the air. “Keep pulling.” “But…” “Keep pulling.” The captain stalked from the deck and the hands watched as his face reappeared in the murky window that overlooked the deck of the ship. He shouted something they couldn’t hear at them. Without a word they turned themselves back to the rope. The three hands’ eyes met as th...
Andrew ShanahanS410: BREATHE
Music plays. A calm, swell of chords that holds you steady. We begin. As you take a breath in, you close your eyes. You breathe out and your eyes want to open. Let them if it adds to your feeling of security. But as you breathe – in…out – you feel the need to open your eyes reduces. Your eyes are closed. Gradually, like the emergence of dawn, you start to become aware of the world inside your mind. It is a place of great beauty and a serene, epic grandeur. You are aware that you are sat comfo...
Andrew ShanahanS410: THOUGHTS
All the ideas and thoughts that coalesced in my brain between 19:41 and 19:51 A cosy ninja. Furry slippers. Marshmallows on the points of his shuriken. The Smiths on a camping holiday. The 100 Acres Wood implies the existence of a 100 acres wouldn’t. I bet The Fonz really struggled to buy batteries. What size would you like Mr Fonzarelli? Aaaaaaaaaaay. Floating, floating, floating, floating, floating, then not floating Tesla superchargers, Tesla superduperchargers, Tesla supercalifragilistice...
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Former Guardian/Times journalist, now writing fiction full-time. Having fun playing with web3 publishing.
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