Sunny, With a Chance of Rain
PostPosted: Thu May 21, 2009 5:19 am
The hallway waited in silence, interrupted by the single creak of a single door. The wood panelling felt heavy under Stanfelt's palm as he stepped through. The door contested but slide from his vertical view, and he tripped up the last couple steps. His breathing was deliberate, calming considerably at the presence of no strangers or familiar faces in the hallway. He wiped his brow on a undone sleeve as he eyed the doorway with the briefest of regrets. He shouldn't leave it open. But...
The lengthy room hung in suspended animation, the smallest movement out of place, and Stanfelt was very out of place as be cut through the stillness to the end of the corridor. He tapped the elevator button, a little harder than it needed. He rocked gently to cool himself, his hands, on automatic, fixing the fringes of his jacket. His lids closed, blanketing him in a warm uncertainty as he counted the seconds for the elevator. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. The numbers grew hazy but he tightened his focus, propping himself against the wall. Please. Please let it be sunny. Even a little bit. Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. The elevator hadn't taken this long on the way up.
"Are you alright son?"
Darting. The elevator doors had opened, two elderly women occupying therein, concerned. His vision cleared sharply. "I'm fine."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine. I just-I just need the lobby."
"Oh well, come on in. There's plenty of room." The women smiled honestly, packing themselves to one side of the compartment. Stanfelt's stare was broken only by his own erratic breathing. He forced it off as a chuckle, forging his way into the elevator, turning back against the lush inside. The closer of the two women leaned forward to press for the lobby. The elevator hummed to life, and Stanfelt closed his eyes to the hallway forever. The door on the floor was still open as the elevator slid closed and began its downward shuffle. His demeanor stabilized, and he began to count the seconds to the bottom. One. Two.
"Have you seen Mrs. Hornley?"
Four.
"Oh no, what's the dear up to this time?"
Seven.
"Well, you never did here this from me you understand, but I was told-"
Stanfelt peeled his eyes tepidly. The ladies had already filled the tiny compartment with gossip, petty and pointless. Nothing else was important. He closed his eyes again, surrendering himself to the embalming aroma of unfounded rumor. Nothing else was important. The seconds fell by the wayside. He afforded himself a lukewarm smile, and the world grew dull.
The elevator gently shifted to a complete stop, jarring him from his rest. His hand sprang to his forehead as he excused himself from the women's company, cradling himself as he headed for the revolving doorway, his other hanging uselessly. Sunny. Please. The intricate designs of the carpet began to meld with reality around him, he did not possess the strength to elude them.
"Sir?"
The gloved hand of a hotel clerk clasped his shoulder. Violently, he turned backwards, ever retreating in the direction of the exit. "I-I don't need anything, I just...I just need to step out-outside."
"Sir, is everything alright? You seem ill." A certain corporate compassion led the clerk forward amidst the steadily drawing crowd. Stanfelt tried to shake him off, but the clerk overpowered his arm. "Sir, please, is-"
The cheerful lobby jingle temporarily held sway over the entire scene.
"...My God. Oh my God, he's bleeding. This man is bleeding, oh G-"
Stanfelt summoned what passed for the reserves of his strength and belted the clerk with his free fist, toppling him. The guests retracted in hushed horror. Stanfelt's irregular breathing returned, but the world did not change before him this time. It simply grew darker. Restless, he forced his frame for the heavily tinted glass of the revolving door.
Please. Please.
A family of five eyed him with a stark removal as they rotated into the building, facilitating his escape. He stepped, possibly gracefully, down the steps under the awning and stood for a moment, bathed in the noise of the street. Passersby took no notice of him, cars either parked or en route to somewhere. He steadied himself carefully, like a fragile tower, turning his attention skyward. Sunny.
Clouds. Thick and grey, the smell of rain fresh on the inner-city current. He stifled a laugh, even as it turned to despair. And then the darkness consumed him. He reached to his pocket, but fell listless, collapsing on the sidewalk. Indiscernible voices channeled around him, enveloping, and then disappearing.
The rain tapped against the Earth, gently.
The lengthy room hung in suspended animation, the smallest movement out of place, and Stanfelt was very out of place as be cut through the stillness to the end of the corridor. He tapped the elevator button, a little harder than it needed. He rocked gently to cool himself, his hands, on automatic, fixing the fringes of his jacket. His lids closed, blanketing him in a warm uncertainty as he counted the seconds for the elevator. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. The numbers grew hazy but he tightened his focus, propping himself against the wall. Please. Please let it be sunny. Even a little bit. Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. The elevator hadn't taken this long on the way up.
"Are you alright son?"
Darting. The elevator doors had opened, two elderly women occupying therein, concerned. His vision cleared sharply. "I'm fine."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine. I just-I just need the lobby."
"Oh well, come on in. There's plenty of room." The women smiled honestly, packing themselves to one side of the compartment. Stanfelt's stare was broken only by his own erratic breathing. He forced it off as a chuckle, forging his way into the elevator, turning back against the lush inside. The closer of the two women leaned forward to press for the lobby. The elevator hummed to life, and Stanfelt closed his eyes to the hallway forever. The door on the floor was still open as the elevator slid closed and began its downward shuffle. His demeanor stabilized, and he began to count the seconds to the bottom. One. Two.
"Have you seen Mrs. Hornley?"
Four.
"Oh no, what's the dear up to this time?"
Seven.
"Well, you never did here this from me you understand, but I was told-"
Stanfelt peeled his eyes tepidly. The ladies had already filled the tiny compartment with gossip, petty and pointless. Nothing else was important. He closed his eyes again, surrendering himself to the embalming aroma of unfounded rumor. Nothing else was important. The seconds fell by the wayside. He afforded himself a lukewarm smile, and the world grew dull.
The elevator gently shifted to a complete stop, jarring him from his rest. His hand sprang to his forehead as he excused himself from the women's company, cradling himself as he headed for the revolving doorway, his other hanging uselessly. Sunny. Please. The intricate designs of the carpet began to meld with reality around him, he did not possess the strength to elude them.
"Sir?"
The gloved hand of a hotel clerk clasped his shoulder. Violently, he turned backwards, ever retreating in the direction of the exit. "I-I don't need anything, I just...I just need to step out-outside."
"Sir, is everything alright? You seem ill." A certain corporate compassion led the clerk forward amidst the steadily drawing crowd. Stanfelt tried to shake him off, but the clerk overpowered his arm. "Sir, please, is-"
The cheerful lobby jingle temporarily held sway over the entire scene.
"...My God. Oh my God, he's bleeding. This man is bleeding, oh G-"
Stanfelt summoned what passed for the reserves of his strength and belted the clerk with his free fist, toppling him. The guests retracted in hushed horror. Stanfelt's irregular breathing returned, but the world did not change before him this time. It simply grew darker. Restless, he forced his frame for the heavily tinted glass of the revolving door.
Please. Please.
A family of five eyed him with a stark removal as they rotated into the building, facilitating his escape. He stepped, possibly gracefully, down the steps under the awning and stood for a moment, bathed in the noise of the street. Passersby took no notice of him, cars either parked or en route to somewhere. He steadied himself carefully, like a fragile tower, turning his attention skyward. Sunny.
Clouds. Thick and grey, the smell of rain fresh on the inner-city current. He stifled a laugh, even as it turned to despair. And then the darkness consumed him. He reached to his pocket, but fell listless, collapsing on the sidewalk. Indiscernible voices channeled around him, enveloping, and then disappearing.
The rain tapped against the Earth, gently.