Tuesday, September 3, 2013

"Isaiah's Gift" - part 2 of 3

Here's part two of "Isaiah's Gift."  Thanks for the comments on part one.  Sorry it was torturing you to stop where I did.  I guess you all never watched a series or a soap opera.

Oh well, hope you enjoy the second installment.

...“It’s okay,” he said softly.  “I’m in pre-med.”  He gingerly felt the break in her ankle, and as he did, the pain left.  He touched her forehead, where the collision with the brick wall had left a two inch gash.  “You’re going to be fine,” he assured her.  “Can you make it home okay?”  Suddenly she felt fine.  Her ankle and head were no longer on fire, and as she felt for the cut, it was strangely gone.  Chrystal held her hand into the light from the library.  It was covered in blood.
            “Wait,” she said.  “How did you?”  As Chrystal looked back to her savior, he was gone.  She sat up and scanned the courtyard.  Off in the distance she could see the dark hooded figure limping away.  “Hey, wait up,” she cried.  But it was too late.  He ducked into the darkness of the woods.
            By the time Chrystal arrived at her dorm, she realized she had left her satchel of books back on the courtyard steps.  Screw the books.  She wasn’t going back there until daylight.  Sarah, her roommate, gasped when Chrystal opened the dorm room door.  “What happened?  Are you alright?  Should I call campus security?”
            Chrystal held up her hand and went straight to the bathroom.  Her hair and face were covered in blood.  She turned on the shower, pulled off her clothes and got in.  After soaking for a few moments and rubbing the chill bumps from her arms, Chrystal washed the blood from her hair and face.  She watched as the tub water became pink, a mixture of the red blood and foam of the shampoo.  She dried off and examined herself in the mirror.  How could this be?  So much blood and not a single cut?  She put her foot on the sink and looked at her ankle.  There was no doubt she had broken it in the fall.  So where was the injury?  The ankle wasn’t even swollen.
            Finally, Sarah burst through the bathroom door.  “Would you please tell me what in heaven’s name happened to you tonight?”  Chrystal shook her head and examined once more the cut free forehead.  She told Sarah about the dark figure and the other man who knocked her down.  She explained the fall, the broken ankle and the cut on her head.
            “I don’t know, Sarah.  I just don’t know.”  They both saw the blood, but neither could find a wound.  “Would you go with me tomorrow to look for my books?”
            “Sure.”  Sarah helped Chrystal change into her pajamas and tucked her in bed.  “Are you sure you don’t want me to call security?”
            “And tell them what?” Chrystal asked.
            The next morning Chrystal and Sarah left early to search for her books.  They found them exactly where Chrystal had lost them.  And at the bottom of the courtyard steps, where Chrystal had fallen…they found bloodstains.  “We got to find this hoodie guy,” Sarah said with determination.  “Pre-med, huh?  That shouldn’t be too hard to find.  It’s a small school.”  Sarah turned to her roommate.  “Did you see his face at all?”  Chrystal shook her head.  “Any distinguishing marks or characteristics?”
            Chrystal thought for a moment and reran the images of last night through her head.  “Yeah, he had a limp.”
            “Good,” Sarah added with her best Sherlock Holmes accent.  “A pre-med student with a profound limp.  Elementary, my dear Chrystal.  We’ll solve this riddle in no time…”
            “Time!” Chrystal screamed as she grabbed the satchel.  “What time is it?”
            “Six, twenty-two.  Why?”
            “Oh god, I only have an hour and a half.”  Chrystal ran off with the book bag banging against her side.
            While Chrystal went home to write a good history paper, Sarah set out to discover the mystery man who magically healed Chrystal’s wounds.  There were only two sections of pre-med students, so the process should be relatively easy.  She pulled out her I-phone and checked the university’s website for class schedules.  One section would be in the Fulbright lecture hall, and the other divided into five labs at eight, ten and two.  No one would care if she dropped in on the lecture, so Sarah climbed the balcony steps and looked for someone in a gray hoodie.  There were only sixty-five students in this section, so it didn’t take long.  Sarah descended the steps of the balcony and ran down the hall to the labs.  Finding a reason to interrupt class would be difficult.  She might get away with it once, but five times? 
            By the end of the day, Sarah’s search proved futile.  No male student in a gray hoodie, and no one with a limp.  Maybe he was absent?  Sarah called in a favor and had an office worker check class attendance.  “Aha!”  Three missing students, and two of them were male.  One was in the B lab and the other in D.  She would check back on Monday.
            That following Sunday night, a young man in a gray hoodie walked across the campus with a slight limp.  He headed over to the pizza parlor wearing black gloves.  Before he got there, he ran into a little trouble.  He wasn’t watching where he was going and accidentally bumped into a group of students on their way back from a pick-up game of basketball.  “Dude!  Watch where you’re going.”
            “Huh, oh, sorry,” the hooded figure offered.  As he walked on, one of the guys grabbed his hood and pulled him back.  “Hey, I said I was sorry.”
            “What’s with the gloves?” he asked.  “It’s not even cold outside.”  The boy tried to free his hood from the man’s grasp.  “What’s your hurry, Dude?  I asked you a question.”
            He pulled again, but the man’s grip was too tight.  “What do you care?” he asked.
            “I care.”  The man jerked the hood and yanked him over to the others.  They jumped right in and began pushing him back and forth in a circle.  “So, freak, what’s with the gloves?”  They pushed and teased and pushed him some more.  “Take his gloves,” the man instructed the others.
            “No, don’t!”
            “Why not?”
            “Please,” he begged.  “Just leave me alone.”  They didn’t. After taking his gloves and stripping him of his jacket too, they kicked him, hit him, spit on him, and left him crying in the bushes.  He never made it to the pizza parlor.

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