Anticipation by Brian Jackson

Brian Jackson is an amateur writer who is trying, like many others, to get his words read. He is retired and lives with his wife, Melanie, a published author, in the sierra foothills. Brian is the editor in cheif of DRR.

It's dark. A single dim streetlight shines on the corner a half block away. Bugs swarm the light. The road is slick and littered with garbage. The smell is pungent. And late night fog mixes with the dark to further obscure a figure hidden in the mouth of an alley.

Reaching into a tan coat with a black, leather gloved hand, the figure retrieves a small folded sheet of cloth from a pocket and proceeds to unfold it. All movement then dissipates back into the shadows where such things are safest dispatched.

In silence a heart beats steadily while nerves remain frail but well guarded. Sweat glistens on the forehead and lip feeling icy cold against the skin. The night is silent as can be. Something is about to happen.

The sound of a door opening across the street is met by a forced exhalation as gentle as a sigh. This merits attention. A step is taken as the figure begins to draw near from out of the shadows. Two pass through the door to walk side by side on the road. One stumbles and is righted by the other.

Any scent of fear is hidden well beneath the stench of the garbage. Yet there is electricity in the air. Short hairs rise even as all wonder why.

The pace of the figure quickens as does the heart. Sure and steady the distance between the figure and the others begins to diminish. The scene becomes more intimate. Three figures alone on a dark road. Two pursued by one.

The pace quickens as the distance between them closes even faster. Nerves are freed by action and movement. The mind by fresh thoughts. The senses honed even sharper by circumstance.

The figure retrieves something from the pocket and folds it into position. The precision of the movement belies the fact that the object is later so carelessly fumbled and dropped. And the distance continues to close until the three merge as one.

The following actions occur in rapid-fire succession. Another set of steps is taken. Breaths are exchanged. Hearts beat; as one quickens in anticipation the others remain oblivious.

Arms fan out from the figure, preparing to grasp with force. One of the others holds something, something the figure desires. The bobble is ogled and caressed, whispered to as if a pet.

Then the fumble occurs. In the excitement of the moment the figure drops what he's holding and reaches out. There is a clatter and a brief echo. The others are warned.

Turning as one they confront the intruder. There's shock on their faces when they see who it is.

"You," one of them exclaims. The other falls back to the road with his guard up.

The intruder rushes forward and rises up to block what little light reaches them from the corner.