Daydream in Night (Metafiction)

     This is a metafiction story I wrote a few months ago- as Mr. Garrioch's assignment. I post it just in case this helps you. My story has a little fantasy on it, so I thought I would make it an imagination. And don't be so angry that boys ruined your story, girls- you'll have fun renovating the story completely. :) 

the narrow alley the girl is passing

           Soaked with cold sweat, I wake up in my bed. It is 2 o’ clock in the morning. I frown at the wet blanket, being aware I should wash it. I look out the black window and I find a little girl, maybe 7^th or 8^th grade, hurrying away. This is a pretty common sight, actually. There are streets full of academies, not letting students to go home early. Still, a little girl walking alone in an empty alley at 2 o’ clock seems too dangerous to me. Suddenly, yesterday’s headline news pops up in my mind: the mysterious serial killer, another murder. I can’t help but get worried. What if she meets that damn killer? Will she be able to escape? I start imagining, ‘what would I do if I was that little girl’?

          

It is a dark, stormy night. As always, I am on my way home after a day’s journey. So bored by the same empty alley, I kick a little rock real hard. I watch it fly a few meters and bump in the wall on my left with a little crash sound. The rock rolls to the corner and then disappears into the right. Right at that moment, a big thud rings the narrow street. I hesitate for a moment. Is it the sound of that small rock falling? Not likely. Suddenly, I feel a chill going through my body. I can sense it clearly: there is something dangerous out there! I decide to retrace my steps and choose another path, even if it takes much longer. I turn. I throw down my heavy backpack. And I start running like crazy.

After a thousand years of running, I am able to catch a glimpse of people. I am a mess- I must have fallen down at least 5 times and I got scratches from stone walls I was too out of my mind to spot. Still, I feel so relieved that I almost drop the moment I see a human being. I call for help at them. But nobody seems to notice me, let alone listen to what I’m saying. Hell, I know life doesn’t always turn out as they were planned, but this is way too absurd. This strange phenomenon I can’t explain, it is as though there is an invisible patrician wall between me and the rest of the world. When I step forward, there it is: the patrician wall. I knew it. Ominous presentiments always come true.

           A frigid hard metal quickly slips from my front and touches my neck, raising goose bumps. A knife. The sharpened blade of the knife glitters at the reflected light of a dim streetlight. Paralyzed, my eyes are fixed at the flashing metal. I dare not look up at the attacker, but my senses are at its peak; I can the heavy breath of a middle-aged man, and I can sense his eyes fixed on my face. My heart starts beating frantically. My brain is telling myself just to be calm, but I can’t stop myself from shivering. The man in my back notices my tremor speaks in a vicious voice. “(*&@#$%^&*)(&^%!!” He says it so sharply it doesn’t make any sense. It resembles the yawp of a beast. The rough sound makes me even more nervous and scared.

           Suddenly, a loud sound fills the air, and the man falls on ground. His body lies flat, completely motionless. It happened so quickly that I don’t even realize he fell on the ground. Then after finding out that he is unconscious, I decide to get away from him before he wakes up. But something catches my sight. His brown leather wallet fell on ground, showing the inside. It is full of a girl’s pictures: my pictures. There are pictures of me going to school, talking with my friends, even taking a shower or changing clothes. I stare at the pictures and the man disbelievingly. What is going on?

image of a stalker

           Wait. I think the story of a stalker is way to absurd. It is hard to think there happened to be a man willing to shot with a gun also. Maybe I should make her escape alone. I will start again at the point where he falls on ground.

           Unable to think properly, all I do is cringe backwards, trembling like a rat facing a cat. I DON’T WANT TO DIE! But I forgot the wall beside my back. I bump into it. It is way over my height; I cannot go over. Scared more than ever, I cling tight to the stone wall.

           At that moment, I get to see the man’s face directly for the first time. He is actually good looking, not in the least like a psychopath or a serial killer. But his flashing eyes allow a glimpse of his craziness. A smile lifts the corner of his mouth, which opens the next moment.

           “Hel-lo there, pretty girl... Good to see me, eh?”

           I cannot make up what to say. Good to see you? But my quietness doesn’t seem to fit him; his face hardens, silently urging me an answer. So I frantically nod my head off. I do not know what he wants from me, but I know this for sure: he will kill me if I do not follow his will. Unfortunately, my fierce nod does not satisfy him.

           “Do not lie, you satanic little freak! I know you hate me! Everyone does!”

           Oh, the killer is upset; the girl is in a serious trouble now. I don’t want her to die, but I can’t think of a way to make her save herself, unless she has some superpowers or something. I guess I will put a helper in there. A helper- I immediately think of the hero in the movie I watched yesterday. Well, the little girl would prefer a young and handsome hero than a passing middle-aged woman, right? At least I would.

an image of the hero I thought of

           As I just stand there like a vulnerable herbivore, the man smiles grotesquely. He draws back his knife, my blood flowing in drops, and licks it clean. He even smacks his lip. For an instant, I think, is it tasty?

“Um…………. Yummy.”

There is nothing I can do except for hoping it to be clean and fast- the death. That is when I hear a tramp. It sounds like a dignified step- the step of a male adult. I open my mouth to scream, but I notice the killer putting a finger in front of his lips. I can’t say one word. I merely hope for the passenger to reach me by chance. Thank goodness, I think he is approaching me! I see the killer slowly turn.

The person coming out of the dark is a young man who looks like a construction worker. He is wearing a shabby khaki colored jumper and holding a dirty helmet. He looks pretty vacant at first, but the moment he spots the man with the knife, his face alters like some another person. He opens his mouth as if to ask what is happening, but the killer does not give him the time of course; he tackles right away. The young man seems too dangerous compared to a man with a flashing knife- my kind helper will be hurt! I decide to run away and call the police. I know it sounds cowardly, but I’m of no help here. I start stepping backward inconspicuously. Soon I stop though because, surprisingly enough, the young man is fighting pretty well bare handed. He dodges cuttings skillfully; it looks like he is looking for a chance to counter-attack.

I haven’t seen any fighting scenes first-hand; it’s so hard to imagine what it would be like! Well, but the young man is my handsome hero, and such heroes usually win, whether it is a tight match or not. I’ll just assume that he wins, maybe with a deep wound or two. The villain would lie flat on ground- the proper ending of a villain! - And the girl and the man would walk together, perhaps attracted by each other, and so on……. For the fun of imagination of readers, I think I will end the story here. I leave the rest of it to you.

The two of them walk in the dark alley, no longer dangerous.