Blog story Episode 1

This will be a serialized blog story that I will begin writing on my breaks at work. I am not doing any outlining for this work. I am only going to discovery write.

Episode 1

“What are you afraid of?” The voice said.
The same voice that had been prompting my every action since I got off the plane at LAX.
I didn’t answer.
The fact that I still stood on the buildings ledge after I had climbed over the safety barrier–was my answer.
“What are you afraid of?”
The voice in my head spoke again. It was a womans voice this time. She sounded agitated.
“Its not everyday I’m asked to kill myself.” I yelled.
“Buddy, don’t do it. Whatever you think is the reason–don’t do it.” A voice from the street below called up to me.
“It is the only way to bring you to us. You must die in this life, to begin the long life.” The male voice in my head said.
The male, sounded old, like the actor that played Marcus Arelius in Gladiator.
I had done everything that they had asked so far; I had escaped from the police in San Francisco,I stole the money from a hidden compartment in a metal box in the Captains office. The box, and the key to it was exactly where they said it would be.
It was at that moment, that I was pretty sure that I was dreaming, or hallucinating on some bad shit that I got from Mo-Mo earlier in the day.
I was pissed off, when I thought I was trippin’,because it had taken me all night, and most of the morning to collect all the plastic, cans and bottles. It was a three hefty bag day jackpot baby, and now I was high.
Now I was following orders from voices in my head, that showed me the path to freedom from my bondage.
As the handcufts fell off of my wrist in the Captain’s office where she had drawn the shades, so she could try to get me to snitch on Mo-Mo.I struck her quick in the throat.
I hit her with my fingers, in a way that I never knew, that I knew, and she glided to the floor like a fallen leaf would, kinda’ swinging, left to right and downward.
Everything around me seemed to move slow. I hesitate to use the cliche about it being like in slow motion, because I don’t think that’s how it was.
I think that I was just thinking, and moving too damn fast.
I could only blame Frikkin’ Mo-Mo, for selling his best customer some far out mess. I should thank him I knew, but at this exact moment standing on this ledge with these two voices in my head prompting me to leap. I just wanted to punch Mo-Mo in the throat like I did the lady Captain.
I don’t know how I was able to make it through the airport in San Francisco. Normally when I haven’t showered in a month, folks seem to want distance between me and them.
The male voice told me that I appeared as just another normal passenger in business class, and that everyone else would think that the smell would be coming from themselves.
“I want to live.” I said, as I struggled to keep my balance.
A bigger crowd had gathered below. The voices of don’t do it, merged with the voices of those who bade me to jump, for causing a delay in their days travels and meetings.
“You say this, and look how you have behaved since arriving here.” The male voice again.
“You will come back to us for more training.” The male voice said.
“We sent you back too soon. We both thought–hoped that you would be able to make the transition.” The female with the silk voice said.
“I want to live?–” and before I could argue any longer some unseen force pushed me off of the building, where I plummet into the crowd below, and my last thought was that I hoped no one got hurt by my emaciated shell.
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