The Rift
A slow young man named Ryan Smith fled the Quel-mart, grunting loud grunts and waving his arms in the air. One thing you could say about Quelnine, was that it was a non-discriminating employer.
Ryan had been working in the produce section of the Quel-mart since he was ten years old, lifting the heavy creates of product for other workers, slicing the leaf lettuces, and cleaning everything up when he was out on "The Floor". He made just enough to pay for snacks and the monthly bill on his room -- a hole in the basement of the grocery store consisting of four brick walls and a moldy cot.
Now he ran mindlessly through the dark pouring rain, mumbling to himself and grunting. Work was always a bad deal, but tonight it had been worse. Tonight there had been loud noises that had hurt his ears and scared him so bad he pooped himself. The sirens were scary, too. Had it not been raining, the tears running down his acne-covered cheeks would have been hard to miss.
"Goan get goin," he said. "I goan get goin now."
He started to chant it over and over again as he went. The sound of bullets in all directions.
Up ahead a man a man lay still on the sidewalk. A dark red stain splashed onto his white button-up shirt. Ryan chanted louder.
"Goin get goin away now!" he said.
He turned a corner at the City Hall, where white steps climbed up to a hardwood door, flanked by marble pillars on either side.
Quelnine soldiers in uniform were in the wet street. One looked to be wearing a gold badge on his chest, but it was hard to tell. He pointed a finger to the side, and the two soldiers with him stepped to the sidewalk and edged their way down a building. At the corner, they peered around the bend, rifles in hand. The coast must have been clear because they motioned to their leader and in a few seconds all three of them were gone.
Ryan was glad they didn't notice him; he figured the Quelnine people probably weren't too happy with him right now -- running away from work! He had really done it this time.
But he figured he'd probably have to go back. Where else was there to go? There were was a cliff at the outskirts of the city with a a forest beyond, but Ryan hadn't been there in at least nine years -- not since his father had passed away. Besides, what would he eat?
Ryan retraced his steps backward, and sat atop the bottom steps of the City Hall, his hands covering his ears. He had never felt more scared in his life.
Ryan had been working in the produce section of the Quel-mart since he was ten years old, lifting the heavy creates of product for other workers, slicing the leaf lettuces, and cleaning everything up when he was out on "The Floor". He made just enough to pay for snacks and the monthly bill on his room -- a hole in the basement of the grocery store consisting of four brick walls and a moldy cot.
Now he ran mindlessly through the dark pouring rain, mumbling to himself and grunting. Work was always a bad deal, but tonight it had been worse. Tonight there had been loud noises that had hurt his ears and scared him so bad he pooped himself. The sirens were scary, too. Had it not been raining, the tears running down his acne-covered cheeks would have been hard to miss.
"Goan get goin," he said. "I goan get goin now."
He started to chant it over and over again as he went. The sound of bullets in all directions.
Up ahead a man a man lay still on the sidewalk. A dark red stain splashed onto his white button-up shirt. Ryan chanted louder.
"Goin get goin away now!" he said.
He turned a corner at the City Hall, where white steps climbed up to a hardwood door, flanked by marble pillars on either side.
Quelnine soldiers in uniform were in the wet street. One looked to be wearing a gold badge on his chest, but it was hard to tell. He pointed a finger to the side, and the two soldiers with him stepped to the sidewalk and edged their way down a building. At the corner, they peered around the bend, rifles in hand. The coast must have been clear because they motioned to their leader and in a few seconds all three of them were gone.
Ryan was glad they didn't notice him; he figured the Quelnine people probably weren't too happy with him right now -- running away from work! He had really done it this time.
But he figured he'd probably have to go back. Where else was there to go? There were was a cliff at the outskirts of the city with a a forest beyond, but Ryan hadn't been there in at least nine years -- not since his father had passed away. Besides, what would he eat?
Ryan retraced his steps backward, and sat atop the bottom steps of the City Hall, his hands covering his ears. He had never felt more scared in his life.