Razor
By Casey Douglass
for #fridayflash
The neon tube overhead
shuddered as a train rumbled past somewhere to the left, the small
subway toilet quiet and unminding. The rough looking man stood alone,
the only denizen of the grimy smelly pit. A wan and drawn face stared
back at him from the smudged mirror, the dark rings under its eyes
and poking cheekbones looking even more ghoulish under the artificial
lighting.
He hadn’t wanted to
do it here, but with his ticket lost and no money, why bother
arguing his way out of the station above. What difference did “where”
make in the long run anyway. Better to do it now and save some
hassle.
He rolled up his right
sleeve with a dirty hand, twisting the stiff jacket material so that
it stayed behind his bent elbow. He pushed up his jumper sleeve next,
then undoing his shirt cuff, he forced that up with the others.
His forearm throbbed
and shook with his pulse; the veins and muscles pushing up against
the paper-thin skin. He looked in the mirror one last time before
reaching down for the razor blade that was propped up against the
cold tap.
The icy metal chilled
his thumb and index finger but in the smoothest motion he could
manage, he brought it to rest an inch above his exposed right wrist.
His eyes locked onto
the mirror almost against his will, and he noted that they looked
calmer now, more relaxed. He smiled and his double smiled back.
‘I wont make the same
mistakes next time,’ he said to the glass.
With one swift motion,
he spun the razor blade around his wrist, it never fully dipping to
actually touch the skin. Blue sparks fizzed and sputtered from the
sharp edge, ghostly worm like tendrils momentarily appearing and
fading as the razor severed them.
The lights above
flickered and buzzed as another train rattled past, failing totally
for a few dark seconds. When they recovered and blazed once more into
the tiled space, the man was gone. The only sound heard over the
still vibrating train line was the quiet gurgle of the urinals as
they entered their scheduled flushing cycle.
--THE END--
Not some of my best writing by any means, but I have been stuck in such a poor state that I felt I just needed to get something out and start the ball rolling again.Thanks for reading.
