May 1

Short Story – “Rooftops” by Ruairí O’Brolchain (TY)

He raced across the dusty rooftops, painfully aware that the sandstorm had already started. The cloudy sky gave little indication where the buildings stopped and the night began. The pale moon occasionally emerged from behind a cloud above him, distorted by the swirling sand and suddenly disappearing without warning. He guessed this was a good thing, as the fog gave him a cloak of darkness to hide in. Wind was bringing the sand into the city in waves. If you stood still, you could almost see individual grains of sand whipping around in the air. The sand particles flew around him as he raced through the night. He cursed as his shin crashed against something, and winced as he sent a well looked-after potted plant to the ground, feeling sorry for the family who had spent hours tending to it. The dry dirt tumbled out as he stumbled on.

He skidded to a stop as he sent some sand flying out to the abyss that he had narrowly avoided, to join the rest of the storm, which was beginning to pick up. He quickly chose left, and dropped down to the roof below. He rolled with the impact, cushioning his fall, and ran on. He glanced back over his shoulder and couldn’t see anything, but there was no way he was stopping after what had just happened. He could still hear the alarms blaring into the night. He glanced down as he leapt between two closely packed buildings, and the street, four stories below, was deserted. The wind was really starting to pick up, and the sand was really beginning to sting against his exposed face and hands. He clambered up a pole, then scaled down the other side of the wall, jumping down the last section. He landed awkwardly, but staggered forwards, and went on.

After a while he came to a halt, and nestled in between two walls to catch his breath. After about five minutes, he saw two familiar looking shapes stroll by. He stood quickly, wondering what two policemen were doing up on the rooftops and proceeded to follow them from a distance. They arrived at what appeared to be a wall, but then one of them reached forwards and knocked three times on it. It slid back to show a grimy and dimly lit corridor. They went in, and the door started to close. Just before it did, he jumped forward and managed to slip into the gap. The men had turned around a corner up ahead and were out of sight.

Slowly, he crept forward, hugging the wall. As he went around the corner, he found himself at the top of a staircase. He crept down, but when he got to the bottom, he found himself in a large room with four entrances. While he was deciding which to take, he heard a noise. It sounded like footsteps. As the noise got louder, he realised it wasn’t one set of footsteps, it was dozens, and they were coming from all entrances. All but one. It seemed as though the choice was made for him. He dashed down the poorly lit tunnel.

“Daniel! It’s bedtime!” His mother’s voice rang out. Daniel sighed. His mum had impeccable timing when it came to ruining his games.

“Is your room tidy?” she asked from the kitchen. Daniel looked around at his policemen teddies, his pillow roofs, and his pillow fort.

“Pretty much!” he yelled back.

“Good!” she replied, and he sighed again as he started to clean up. It could get pretty boring during isolation.

Tags:

Posted May 1, 2020 by borrisokanecc in category Uncategorized

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

*