Walking A Sidewalk At Miami University On MLK DayThe stars peered from the sky like peeping toms spying through the glass that shielded our lives from the cold cosmos for a bit of rest prior to reincarnation. Drunken chatter and squeals of intoxication sweated through the night. Ted and I left a party to return our friend Linda's house. The two of us trotted the sidewalk gingerly.
We were each college students, the time was late night or early morning depending on ones point of view. The first hours of Martin Luther King Jr. Day had began to spring upon us, as a result there was nothing to keep us from setting our clocks for a late morning awakening. Ted and I were young, the term responsibility had yet to reveal its definition to us.
A grey sedan trotted down the road as we goofed on; the sedan took its time like a cat sneaking through the night to avoid the attention of its prey. The sedan's headlights were turned off, and were black like dilated pupils. The car drove past us and pulled into a driveway, it paused on the concrete for several seconds before reversing back onto the street; its dark eyes were aimed at Ted and I. As the sedan crossed our path again, 'They're drunker than we are!' I said.
Ted laughed. Suddenly, his eyes crashed into my own gaze. His lips seemed as if they were on the verge of talking, but regardless of their movement no syllables interrupted the silence. I recall his footsteps; he began to depart with a sprint into darkness. I turned to see what beckoned him to gallop into the night like a shooting star flickering from sight.
Two man stood behind me. One stood in the background and wore a flannel shirt, the other stood closer to me and had a long piece of wood gripped between his hands. I never had the chance to greet their eyes until I saw them again in court. I was struck squarely in the head with the wooden ob
(Before I go on, let me turn to the idea of running in face of fear as Ted did. All humans fear for their life, and there is no fault in that. Further all humans are going to act out of self-preservation, it isn't a matter of instinct vs. civility, it is the fact that we are all animals no matter how wise or witty our discourse may be, when a man being faced with a blunt ob
The first hit struck the left side of my face. I fell to one knee and was hit again before I fell on the concrete sidewalk. I covered my head with my hands and escaped.
There was a time as I relaxed on the cold stone that I no longer perceived my situation from my own body. I stood from afar and saw everything in perfect clarity. The street lights were more brilliant than the sun; one light flickered like a strobe light at a party. They handled their wood rod like a maestro conducting an orchestra I was the drum that kept the cadence and when the head of the drum was busted the two musicians retreated to their sedan and embraced several groupies that came to watch the spectacle and sat in awe. A car door clanked shut; the wheels of the sedan vroomed away.
Suddenly, I was no longer a spectator from afar. I was back into my own brown skin. My glasses laid bent and twisted in the lawn next to the sidewalk where death had greeted me briefly. I pondered whether or not the glasses were worth retrieving and decided to leave them on the ground and seek out help. I was able to keep enough calm of mind to begin to raise myself from the ground. This was no easy feat, as though concrete may sound uncomfortable to rest on, there are few greater things to hold onto than the earth itself, but I picked myself up, and tried to stop the red from rusting the broken pieces of my brown face