Friday, August 04, 2006

I carry rusty scissors...

"I carry a pair of scissors wherever I go."

"You say that as if I asked."

"For protection. Rusty ones."

"Why rusty?"

"So that they get blood poisoning after they kill me for stabbing them with my rusty pair of scissors."

It was quite a while when I really started carrying (rusty) scissors around with me. It was because of a an incident that happened a few... well I can't say years... but it has been a while.

It was a cold night.

Raining too.

It was the kind of night were bad things tend to happen. Girls get raped, murdered and robbed. Guys also get raped, murdered and robbed. You know, those kind of nights when the only light is that solitary lamppost and the house you need to be in is near but... still so far.

It was that kind of night.

My brother was walking a few steps in front of me. And there I was carrying a gigantic (exaggeration) hand bag, filled with my Bible, a teddybear from a friend, a notebook and a pencilcase, filled with all my pens, pencils, highlighters and other stationery stuff. My wallet and celphone were in my pant pockets.

So I was walking right. Italics are the contents of my head.

Man, it's dark.

Jem (my brother) walks so fast. Can't wait for me is it?

I wonder if we still have some spaghetti at home. I'd love some spaghetti.

Man, I'm wet. Shoes are wet, shirt is wet and my pants are wet.

Huff-puff? Is it just me or is somebody seems really tired---

And that's when he struck. From out of nowhere, an arm grabbed me from behind and he forced me to lie down onto the grass.

Hey. I'm on the grass.

[No duh.]

My brain was extremely calm and my thoughts were slow. I wasn't even panicking. My heartrate remained the same.

I looked up at my attacker and I couldn't see his face because the light was behind him and he was wearing a hood.

He has a hood. So his hair won't get wet.

I don't know why he didn't bother to cover my mouth, but he didn't.

Hey, I should scream.

It was as if I was just thinking about the weather.

Oh and I did scream by the way. The guy went nuts and started grabbing my bag. I didn't let it go. I didn't stop screaming my brother's name and I started kicking blindly.

I hit him once.

My brother was coming nearer and he stepped on my neck and ran away.

My brother never saw him.

It was a weird night.

I only started getting scared at home in my room. That's when I started freaking out. I couldn't sleep cause I kept thinking that the guy was outside and was waiting for me to step out of the house the next day. (Never saw him again though.)

Weird huh?

Lotsa love, Jana

Labels: Life in the form of chocolate

by jana at 6:53 PM |