This is an idea I can't seem to get out of my head until I put it down on the computer. I uploaded it to this site to see what you think of it. This is a modern fice and the roles will be reversed. What do I mean? Read and find out!
The sirens were getting louder now, which meant the assailant they were chasing had to be near.
He quickened his pace. He had been so stupid, why didn't he listen to his friend and let him drive him home?
New York, in his opinion, was the worst town. It was filthy and restless constantly bustling with people trying to get about living. They had family and friends and jobs. It was, after all, the reason he was there. He had been offered a job to help design and oversee a new house he had to build in upstate New York.
He didn't find the need to buy a house in the suburbs and decided instead to rent an apartment in the city. Which was where he was trying to get to now. He was getting back from a bar where his friend and him shared a couple of drinks, celebrating his new job offer and move.
He could hear the sirens even louder this time and the small footsteps as someone behind him ran.
He turned and saw a small shadow running towards him. It wasn't more of a shadow than that of a ghost. They way it almost hovered over the floor, like it wasn't running, he could hardly hear her footsteps. Like a phantom.
He turned sharply and quickened his pace again.
He felt stupid, why should he fear the phantom? He was after all a full grown man, capable of handling whatever came his way.
He realized why he was scared. Maybe it was the person that the police were looking for. Maybe he had a gun or knife or…
He had no time to think because in the next moment, he felt small hands take hold of his jacket and pull him into an alley. He knew it was the Phantom. The small figure pulled him against it and pressed him against the wall.
It was as if it were hiding.
He knew from what the moment the sirens passed the mouth of the alley. So this was the person they were chasing. As he almost turned to reveal himself to the police so they could capture the assailant, he heard something that made him freeze.
He looked down at the figure in front of him. Al though he couldn't see her face, he knew it was a girl. That would explain why her hands were so small and why the phantom seemed so petite.
He grabbed her upper arms, trying to look at her face but she averted his gaze. She looked behind him and calmed when they couldn't hear the sirens anymore.
She visibly relaxed and placed her head on his chest, panting. It was obvious she had been running for a long time. "Thank you," she breathed. "I've been trying to get away."
His features softened at the hoodlum before him when she spoke. She seemed so small to him, like a frightened little mouse. She sounded scared and tired but her voice was pure and beautiful.
"Excuse, miss" he finally spoke. "But why are you running away?"
She sighed and pushed him away gently. "Wrong place at the wrong time." She stepped away from him and looked down the street they had just come back from.
By the looks of her, it seemed the exact opposite. She wore baggy clothing, including a hoody which she kept tight over her head. She kept a hand in one of the pockets of the black sweater as if she were holding on to something.
He watched her as she leaned against a wall for support, still out of breath. She saw him staring at her. "Sorry about your shirt."
"My shirt?" he asked looking down at it but seeing nothing in the darkness.
She nodded and showed him her right hand. "I got blood on it."
He took her hand and examined it. He could see some strange sticky liquid on it and glass glisten as the moonlight hit it. It was as if she had punched glass.
She took her hand back forcefully.
He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and tried to dry the blood. "Here, let me help."
All innocence that he had seen before drained as she snapped at him. "I don't need your help!"
He handed her the handkerchief. "At least dry yourself off a bit."
She scoffed at him. "I don't need your hospitality either."
He sighed. "Let me take you to the hospital-"
"No," she told him, angry. "No hospital."
"Then let me take care of that for you, we can go to my place-"
She laughed and approached him with a seducing walk. "Take me back home, will you?"
"Not like that," he said indignant. "I would never-"
She laughed again. "Your morality amuses me. Why are you trying to help me?"
He furrowed his eyebrows. "It's the humane thing to do."
"'It's the humane thing to do'," she mocked. "Oh, please, the moment you see my face, you'll want to take those words back. There is nothing humane, sir, about me."
Why was she being so cold? It seemed to start when he offered her his help. "Your face? What's wrong with it?"
She scoffed as she stepped back from him. "Where do I begin?"
When she turned to glance back at the street, he stepped forward and took off her hoody, determined to see what was so bad about it.
He was met with her left fist colliding with his jaw.
He stumbled back a couple of steps and hit the wall behind him, sinking to the floor. For a girl, she does hit hard.
He looked up at the petite girl as she towered over him. She bent down next to him. He could see she had curly hair, it hung below her shoulders, parted to the left, letting some of it drape over the right side of her face.
She punched him again and he noticed she had brass knuckles on. No wonder it hurt.
"Never," she spat, "take off my hoody."
He looked at her, her face spinning around as his head collided once again with the hard wall behind him.
She fumbled through his pockets and took out his wallet.
He groaned at his weak state, tasting the copper liquid in his mouth.
Looking through the small leather wallet, she smiled. "Thank you, Erik, for your hospitality." She glanced at him and her eyes fell on his lips. She bent down and kissed him softly, chaste, innocent-like contrasting the mood she was exhibiting moments before.
She pushed her left cheek against his own. "Thank you, angel, for hiding me."
Then she disappeared into the darkness, leaving Erik coughing on the dirty alley floor. He grumbled and groaned, coughing once again.
By being friendly to someone, he managed to get mugged and beaten. By a girl, no less. A teenager, he was sure that she couldn't be older than twenty. Something told him that he wasn't going hear the end of this one, especially not by Nadir.
Let me know if my little pet project is worth pursuing. Not to worry, A Memory's Phantom is still my top priority right now. If this story sucks, let me know, if not then, that's cool too. All right, tootles,