Yuri Alekseyevich Gagarin

First chapter please comment, any criticism is welcome!

Russia

2020

 

A man, of no extraordinary presence, created a beat, one sure leather sole at time. Just a normal man, average in physique, ruffled hair with a suit that melded into the backdrop. It had been a hard day for this man, working overtime is not wise and it showed obvious anxiety which crept into his tensed gate. The dense, uneven tarmac under his feet created pockets of water, residue from the day which caused minuscule splashes as its disturbed, echoing the beat from the shoes.  Dusk was upon him but this was the only sound, no other life could be heard, not even the bird song flew into his ears, as if a curfew was in place, but none was. The cold, rusted, steel plate hung from doors and windows hiding their gems insides, both shops and homes alike stood with rough chipped stone leaving the brickwork fragmented looking more like a cliff face exposed to the weather. While large graffiti messages stuck out anywhere and everywhere declaring rebellion and rudeness in dark greens and blood reds all hued to one grey in the little light. The structures engulfed him, surrounded him in this concrete prison with winding narrow streets cris-crossing like a maze as he passed the only discernable object other than street or building; a statue, the last remaining relic of Russia, Yuri Alekseyevich Gagarin, the first man to walk in space. At least this had not been defaced! Even though the elements had taken their toll and the face’s features were unrecognisable. Every time he passed it the man took a moment to think about how it was when he was younger, around this proud statue lay green ground, the scarce tree or two, with tourists flocking like seagulls to view this cosmonaut, while commuters passed maybe glimpsing before carrying on their way. However it is unwise to linger in the same place for too long so the man quickly regained his pace and shuffled on. Howling wind rained down the street amplified by the small girth, lifting litter and depositing it a couple of feet further down the road, this was the only form of disposal the city had. Lamps of varying degrees of dim red spread out across the curb thanks to the slow burn of sodium, but some overhang whereas others did not shine at all; he walked in the road as no cars would come, petrol was more precious than diamonds and much, much rarer. Then a scream punctured the air carried by the wind to the man, it was high pitched and long and made the man cringe and freeze. A dilemma had now occurred what was the man to do, get away or to investigate? Against his better judgement he tentatively moved towards the source of the cry. It had emanated from a dark alleyway which was added to the top of the already high pile of nerves, the commotion was easily spotted as silhouettes danced jaggedly as two men harassed a girl. It was a crude sight that sickened the man yet what was the girl doing here this late? And why were their only two men where was the rest of the gang? Silently he crept into the shadow of the buildings as stealthy as a prowling feline and stumbled upon a broken piece of piping. Slowly he bent and picked it up and swept over the attackers, pounding them furiously with the pipe as rust flew off and was replaced by shimmering blood, as the men yelled and swore before lying limp on the floor. The man shocked at his extremist actions dropped the weapon, shacking and then cowered to the floor. The girl sobbing created a surreal picture where both girl and man where on the same level, however the man quickly regained some backbone as he knew what danger lay ahead and beckoned the girl to follow, holding out his hand. She clamped her sweat ridden palm to his, half his size as he pulled and started to run, maybe it was because he had just saved her that she followed or that he looked like a trustworthy man either way both were sprinting down the roads occasionally changing direction or darting down a side route to confuse any pursuers. Until he reached a familiar sight, a small terrace house, no more luxurious than any other, probably more beaten down than others, he stepped briskly up the steps to the door, staggered over his keys and slammed the bare wood shut after the girl. Pulling the chord to gradually set alight the front room he finally saw the girl in good light; she was Asian of origin slightly tanned with straw, jet black hair her cheeks was sore scarlet with stress from the continuous tears running down them. Their wet shoes stained his front rugged carpet but it did not matter because this was bad, the man was a normal man, didn’t want any trouble and now he was in over his head, way over his head. 

Reviews

[dreaming dame]

I love this! Particularly the words, the howling wind rained. Awesome. :)

[AndyJCash]

This is great, the narrator seems omniscient while remaining detached and this creates a sense of suspense and distrust towards the situation. That last sentence as well, it fondly reminds me of Neil Gaiman for some reason, and you know what I think of Neil Gaiman! The only thing I would say is paragraph the piece, makes it easier to read :)
I remember you telling me this dream, but hadn't realised you had posted it up here. Good job, hope you find the inspiration to continue this when you find the time!

[ब्र&#..]

This was an amazing read ofc
alltid
-Meja Malina