Short Story: Protect My Soul

He was always there, everyday, waiting in front of Steve's Emporium. The shop that stood like an ancient beacon behind him, sold everything. Toys, guns, candy, liquor, clothing, Steve had it all and all types of people found themselves walking in and out of the shop. They gave Steve good business and the man who stood before the entrance a living.

The man was homeless, or at least he spent all his time standing outside Steve's Emporium. Early in the morning and late at night, he was more permanent than the bright neon sign that glowed when the store was open. He wore a long brown trench coat, stained with ubiquitous marks of dirt that he accumulated from his lifestyle, boots that were tattered, and layers of pants which were ripped and sodden with filth. His face was a wrinkled mass of old skin, worn and beaten from days in the sun, wind, and rain. Most of his drawn features were hidden under a mask of wiry black and white hair, which grew long down his jaw line. His thick eyebrows were constantly furrowed with strain.

I didn’t know his name, but I knew that the sight of him made me hurry past Steve's Emporium each time I walked by to go to work or to visit the local bookstore. I wished those were the only moments I saw him but unfortunately, I was laid victim to the sight of his burly figure whenever I looked out my windows.

Living on the third floor of an apartment complex, my unit faced the street and offered me a lovely view of the shops across from it. On lazy days when I had no work or friends to keep me busy, I would wander across my living room and stop to peak out my window. I never knew what exactly I was looking for when I did this, but when my eyes swept across the bustling street, they were always known to settle on the man in front of Steve's Emporium. He was such a curious figure, standing statuesque during all hours of the day, and even more curious was the way he seemed to feel my presence. After a few moments of taking in his sight, he would quickly look up at me, delivering a sharp gaze in my direction which sent me cowering into the recesses of my apartment.

As much as I feared him, I wanted to know more about what made him into who he was. For such a simple man, he was very much an enigma in my eyes. I wanted so much to stop in front of Steve's Emporium and ask him to bare his soul to me so I could finally have piece, but each time I was offered the chance, I quickly trotted past him.

On another day, I was walking to work and prepared to speed around the man again, but as I tried to move swiftly past, he held onto to my arm. My heart pulsated uncomfortably against my chest as the unexpected occurred, and I looked at my small wrist wrapped up in the man's grungy hands.

"My names Rick," he grumbled, then let me go.

I quickly hurried away in a panic, wringing the arm he touched as if to wipe it clear of any remnants of him that might linger. The rest of the day I was privy to anxiety, fidgeting and jumping at the smallest distraction.

The following morning, I made ready to take a different route, but the moment I exited my complex, I heard Rick coarsely call my name.

"Jessica!"

I looked up and saw him hobbling across the busy street towards me. Lost in fear I began to run from him, down the street and around the corner. After running for quite some time, I finally looked behind me to check if he was still in pursuit, but was relieved to see a row of ordinary pedestrians behind me. My eyes not set on the obstacles before me, I crashed into something or someone.

The moment after impact, I felt arms tightly encircle me, pressing me hard against dank and damp clothing, and then usher me away. As I was carried off, I wondered why I couldn’t find the strength to move, or no one had the urge to stop my captor from hauling me away.

When I found myself sitting in a crumpled heap in the corner of an alleyway, I wondered why I was unafraid and more relaxed than I had ever been.

Rick was standing ominously over me, his light blue eyes examining me shrewdly. I felt that I should scream, shout, do anything to express some sort of protest, but my body didn’t want to make the effort.

"Do you want to live?" Rick asked.

I don’t remember saying or doing anything, but Rick nodded in response to my silence then continued, "then you must call my name the moment you are about to lose your soul."

Rick straightened his coat then wandered out of the alleyway. The further he moved, the more my real my fear became, and moments after he left I erupted into a fit of screams. I jumped from the awkward position I sat in and began rubbing furiously at my clothing. Through the dim shadowed lighting, my white blouse appeared to be stained, and I was more than late for work. Tears of frustration and fear rolled down my eyes as I walked briskly to work. I ignored the questions my coworkers asked when I stepped into the office late. I paid no mind to the looks I was given when they took in my tattered appearance.

My mind was half aware of the duties I needed to meet that day at work, and was mostly preoccupied with my meeting with Rick.

The days following my bizarre morning with Rick, my discomfort with the sight of him slowly began to placate. I no longer walked with fear that he would accost me again. I could stare at him for as long as I wished and he didn’t show any observance of me as he usually had in the past.

I finally found the nerve to spend a night out with my friends. They had been calling me almost daily to find a piece of my time to spend with me and I had been less than compliant with their requests. My evening with them was relaxing, and further set my nerves at ease, and I came home late in the night.

When I returned to my apartment, all was dark. I quickly closed the door behind me and turned on the lights. Everything was still in the place I had left it, but something seemed off. It felt as if there were a foreign presence lurking in every dark corner of my apartment. I quickly moved into the kitchen and switched on the lights, then did the same in my bedroom and bathroom. Nothing had changed since I left earlier in the afternoon, but the same feeling of foreboding persisted.

I stood silently in the center of my living room, waiting for the dreaded shift of fate to take over my space and me. An overwhelming urge to look from my window down towards Steve's Emporium also began to nag at me. With slow steps I edged towards my lavender curtains, and looked through the corner. With the poor street lighting I could see the store sign, but could not see Rick. My heart pounded uneasily. Behind me I heard the tinkle of glass in my kitchen, and I quickly turned to meet whatever made the sound.

Feeling more brave than fearful, I edged slowly towards the kitchen, and looked the room up and down. No one was there. My eyes skimmed the cabinet faces, the stove, the fridge, and the countertops. Between my sink and one corner of my kitchen wall I saw a small flask that had never been there until that moment. I took the small clear flask in my hand, examining it uneasily. It had a tag from the store I had always wanted to visit. The tag read, "Steve's Emporium," and listed a high price, and on the other side of the tag was a short note scrawled in messy writing.

"Me and everyone else can have everything and nothing," I read aloud. I could feel my heart pounding uncomfortably within my chest. I was sure that Rick left it in my apartment but I didn’t know how.

I continued to examine the flask and as it moved in my hand the loosely placed glass cap, shifted and tinkled against the mouthpiece.

I flipped the flask over and the glass cap fell out, shattering on the ground. I made to reach for the pieces of glass that lay at my feet, but my body fell rigid. Looking at the flask in my hand I saw a thin film of yellow mist rising from my bare skin and filing into mouthpiece. At the base of the clear flask I could see the yellow mist collecting as a thick yellow liquid.

As the level of yellow rose, I became less aware and held less control over my body. I felt as if I was being held under a pool of water, descending deeper and deeper into its depths while reality floated at the surface.

My mind slowly began to recount my meeting with Rick, but it did so slowly. It was a struggle to remember the simple instruction he had given me that odd morning.

"Rick," I whispered, and with a loud crash, he stood right beside me.

His grubby hands were held out before me, and his face was twisted with effort. After a moment nothing happened and the flask was half full, he began to panic.

"What did you do?" he asked frantically.

It took me a moment to respond, but before I did he had already found the source of his difficulty.

"I opened--it," I signed.

Rick held a glass shard of what remained of the flask's cap.

"No," he whimpered, and then he fell to the floor and began to gather the remaining shards fervently. With a majority amassed in his hands and the flask almost full, he began to shove the pieces of glass into the mouthpiece. Each shard was thrust away and flew into random corners of my apartment. Rick no longer looked real to me anymore, and seemed to be more of a thought in a world of nothing. The last image I saw was of Rick, attempting to pull the flask out of my hands. He was crying and he was yelling, and I didn’t care, because I couldn’t.