You may or may not have noticed this was part 2 and also continued. If you were directed her though a search bar using phrases such as ‘random’ or ‘bordom relief’ then you missed the welcoming from the first part the story, and it would be suggested that you go back to the first post. So, to continue the story:
I was left alone for a night.
Although alone might not be the right word.
Night fell onto the street and the street seemed to come alive. All afternoon I had seen absolutly nobody, not even walking across the top of the street. I couldn’t move. Whenever I tryed to heave my body from the floor, pain seemed to rise from some unearthly underground sludge to attack me. So all I could do was wait. And then, as always happens, night fell.
From the houses and side streets and shops that had only this afternoon hidden the White thieves and enemies, the darker skinned who lived and belonged here poured out onto the street, calling and singing and dancing across the stones and the cobbled road where I lay, playing and sliding across the street from door to door, letting the range of music they had to offer rip out onto the street. They danced alone or in twos or threes or in huge groups, and I could do nothing but watch and stair from the ground.
Not once did any of them offer to help, or even look down in my direction. My head, still bleeding slightly from the attack that afternoon, was spinning with the movement and with the noise that attacked one another above my head. I let my eyes recover for a moment, shutting my eyes against the loud, dark party. Something thicker than air seeped into my lungs from the air, chocking me and forcing me to open my eyes again, the black legs dancing across my vision not making any sense. I closed them again quickly, deciding that the street party was too much for my brain to handle, and I let my head rest against the cobbles.
When I opened them again, light had flooded the street again, no evidence of the black’s street-party the prievious night what so ever, and I was beginning to believe the entire thing had been a stress induced dream. It was unusually sunny, not a cloud in the sky, which I thought was unusual with the latest outburst in globabl warming, and with my mind still in hostile mode about the entire place. I began to heave myself against the floor again when a small girl skipped across my vision. I looked up at her, her skin as black as the night and her smile as genuine as anything I had seen in a long time. The last thing I expected from anything that came from here.
“Hello,” she giggled “How do you do?”
I looked up at her, confussed, then tryed quite desperatly to stand up, or even shift my body in the slightest, but it only caused the pain to shoot through my body again, and no limb of mine even moved an inch.
“Mary had a baby boy, it’s skin as white as snow,” the girl sang “And every time the boy came into the town, the blood would surly flow.” she laughed at her song, then held out her hand, as if I were to take it “My name’s Mary. What’s yours?”
I tried to croak a response. I was aiming at something similar to ‘help’, but no words came out, only a spluttered cough and a cup’s worth of blood. My blood sprayed over her bare feet, but she did not move away from the droplets. I stared at her feet, unable to believe what I had just achived.
“Are you very sick or just a little?” Mary asked “Should I go and find Daddy? Daddy’s a doctor. Should I find him?”
I tried to shake my head but that didn’t work either, and I was too scared to attempt to say another word. The girl seemed to understand, and she scuttered off back inside a shop front. I attempted to look around again, lifting my head a miller meter off of the floor. The street just looked like a normal, every day street. It did even look like a dark street. It could hav been anywhere it city. It was just a coincidence this was the black part of town.
Women brush the pavements outside their shop fronts. Children play on the streets, laughing and singing. Men stood at shop fronts, calling news to one another. Again, not one acknoledged me.
I was trying to pick myself up again when the girl, Mary, returned, two black man followed her, grabbed me with soft, gentle hands, and carried me inside.
I admit now, amoungst the blacks, alone and unable to move, I was scared.