Loo k at your feet
wh en
y ou walk..
by/ elliott
....
//
the cool crisp air brushes against his skin as he walks up the stairs. The walls are peeling and peppered with Graffiti and "call for a good time" messages. The sun shines down the stairs, blinding him as he comes closer to reaching the top. He puts his hand up to his eyes to shield himself from the brightness of the sun but it's no use.

"fuck" he mutters. "I knew I should've brought my sunglasses."

The smell of rising sewage and hot dog vendors wafts to his nostrils causing his eyes to burn just a bit more from the sweltering sun. Yet he trudges on until he reaches the summit of the staircase shadowed by the towering skyscrapers of the bustling city. He takes a step forward and another his arms swinging lazily like a subterranean gorilla. Embarrassed, of his posture he places his hands in his jeans pockets. He scans his path through the crowded streets and begins to walk faster- He feels every person's eyes on him- whether they are looking at him or not he feels their gaze like a hot breath on the back of his neck.
He starts to feel the old feelings coming back so he focuses on his feet- He studies the stitching on his toe as he walks.

left

right

left

right

He counts the number of stitching as he walks- nearly walking into several people as he hears their voices echoing in the background meshing with the downtown traffic and the ramblings of homeless.

He focuses on the ground that moves under his feet with every stride. All the imperfections, the dampness, the decay, the trash, the dog shit, even the plants that make it through the concrete, only to be stomped and ripped out because they are weeds.

"Just keep lookin' at da ground" he mutters to himself, almost as if he is scared of some unknown impending doom.

The sun is getting hotter- it beats down his neck with every stride- he feels like his flesh is being burnt even when he walks under shade.
All of a sudden he hears a loud high pitched noise. Like a knife cutting through warm butter it pierces his brain. He feels the warm blood trickle down his lip and tastes the saltiness and on his tongue choking on it. Bending over to catch his breath the blood flows more freely creating a pattern of red dots as he trudges onward exhausted from the blood loss and heat. He turns around searching for the cause of the noise that has caused him to bleed. He unsteadily wheels around feeling light headed from the blood which has started to dry on the bottom half of his face. His heart stops- a man with his eyes and mouth sewn shut stands before him twitching and walking toward him slowly. The fear rises to a fevering pitch- his eyes roll back into his skull his skin is drained of it's color- he collapses in a clump of distended limbs smashing his face on the concrete.

When they find him they'll think it's drugs- but we all know, he should've just kept looking at the ground.

 

Look at your feet when you walk.