HALLOWEEN EVE. MIDNIGHT.
"That's right, fools, wha' sup?!"
"Yea, yea yea, y'all got nuthin!"
Two men breathed heavily as they picked themselves up, half-surprised they were able to scale the towering fence behind them. Howling and shouting into the cold, night autumn air, pumping their fists and pointing their fingers out across the chain-link fence, the other side revealed a larger group of heavy-coat figures, with red bandanas wrapped across their foreheads. Between them was the chain-link fence, which alone wouldn't have held the attacking pack off. But also between them was the street, and a police cruiser that recently turned the corner and parked against the curb.
"Happy Halloween, ya freaky mutha fuckas!" shouted the first man.
"Suerte', ha ha ha!" added the second.
Lucky indeed, for accidentally walking into a gang-beating at night especially in this neighborhood usually condemned a good night to go bad, including a more than healthy dose of bad luck. However, quick legs and blind luck gave the running two considerable distance between them and the hoard that was after them; several blocks later, the two could have very well walked their escape. Half a block and a scaled fence later showed a police cruiser that pulled around the intersection, parking in front of the convenience store, arriving late enough not to spot the two but on time enough to hold their pursuers at bay across the street.
"Hey, man, let's go. Let's get the hell out of here, man."
One stuffed his hands inside his coat pockets while the other pulled his hood over his head.
"Hey Manuel, isn't Halloween tomorrow?" asked the hooded man.
Manuel pulled his right hand out of his pocket and tapped the watch across his wrist. "Twelve-ten in the AM, Benny. New day. It's all where it begins."
Benny shrugged. "That don't count officially, man."
"How the hell is that?"
"Yo, man, it's officially tomorrow when you sleep and then wake up the next day. That's when it's tomorrow."
"What?" Manuel half-blurted. "What kind of lazy ass thinkin' is that? People's whacked out and/or lazy ass sleeping schedule does not dictate the world's time standards. That shit don't work out that way."
"So? Don't matter." The two turned around the alleyway into the sidewalk, slowing their stride, still recovering from their mile dash across the neighborhood. "When you sleep, your body audits itself out to balance, so that when you wake up, all your shit inside you's reset for a new day. Thus, your body thinks it's tomorrow, thus it is tomorrow."
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
Manuel raised an eyebrow towards Benny. "Yo, I keep tellin' you, man, ya gotta stop reading those health mags at the supermarket. It's screwin' with your head. Seriously."
"Make sense, don't it?" Benny replied.
"No, not really. You're just sounding all crazy. I mean, a'ight, even if what you say is true, how could there be a standard for tomorrow if everyone's definition of tomorrow ranges between eleven in the morning and three in the afternoon when your ass gets up?"
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
Though half of the Washington Heights area was always noisy and loud almost every single minute, it was also relatively desolate almost every night around midnight. The liquor shops and convenience stores were open, and a steady flow of traffic rolled by, but for the most part few dared to walk out in the open around this time, especially being so close to Hell's Kitchen.
"Man, time ain't standard," Benny answered. "I mean, remember al that Einstein shit about relativity or whatever? Time's all, like, fluid and relative or whatever."
"Shit, man you need to . . ." Manuel began.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
But tonight was especially dark, and tonight was especially empty. Aside from the lampposts, nothing else was lit. The wind also sharply picked up momentum, and the air was unusually more chill than usual.
"Yo, man, it just got colder than a mother fucker, man. Let's stop by Zips up ahead and get some coffee or whatever," Manuel suggested.
Benny looked around himself, and up ahead. "Is it just me, or is it that this strip's all dead? Damn, man, NO ONE's around here, and most the lights are off."
Benny's voice echoed slightly throughout the walls and the nearby alleyway they just passed. "Shit's freakin' me out a little."
Their feet tapped across the cold hard sidewalk, their tapping bouncing off the walls and zipping back and forth across the street.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
"Damn," Manuel muttered. "Washington ain't supposed to be dead like this. Nobody's rollin' by on wheels either."
Tap, tap, ta-ta tap, tap.
Both Benny and Manuel stopped cold in their tracks.
"What the fuck?" Benny breathed.
Ta-tap, ta-tap . . . ta-tap, ta-tap.
Manuel turned around slowly. Behind him, just across the alleyway they crossed, what seemed like a hooded bum was dragging himself across the sides of the building, limping heavily as he was pushing himself against the wall. He was moving away from the two, breathing somewhat heavily as a thick streak of crimson etched behind him.
"Oh, shit, you all right, man?" Manuel asked.
Ta-tap ta-tap . . . ta-tap, ta-tap.
"Damn, that guy's all fucked up," Benny exclaimed.
The bum stopped limping. Pushing his back against the wall, his knees slowly bent until he was sitting down completely. He turned his head to face Benny and Manuel, his eyes staring straight at them.
His pair of eyes - red, wide-open holes stared straight at them.
Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap -
"Get . . . out of here," said the man.
Benny's mouth gaped wide open, while Manuel shouted like a mad-man, tugging at Benny's sleeve.
"Yo, let's get the fuck out of here, man! Let's - "
As soon as Manuel turned around to begin his flight, a dark figure stopped him. Rather, a group of dark figures stopped him. And before he could do anything else, the last thing he would see would be a pair of glowing red eyes, burning of heat and fire.
The end of Benny's day, meanwhile, wouldn't see another tomorrow again.
"That's right, fools, wha' sup?!"
"Yea, yea yea, y'all got nuthin!"
Two men breathed heavily as they picked themselves up, half-surprised they were able to scale the towering fence behind them. Howling and shouting into the cold, night autumn air, pumping their fists and pointing their fingers out across the chain-link fence, the other side revealed a larger group of heavy-coat figures, with red bandanas wrapped across their foreheads. Between them was the chain-link fence, which alone wouldn't have held the attacking pack off. But also between them was the street, and a police cruiser that recently turned the corner and parked against the curb.
"Happy Halloween, ya freaky mutha fuckas!" shouted the first man.
"Suerte', ha ha ha!" added the second.
Lucky indeed, for accidentally walking into a gang-beating at night especially in this neighborhood usually condemned a good night to go bad, including a more than healthy dose of bad luck. However, quick legs and blind luck gave the running two considerable distance between them and the hoard that was after them; several blocks later, the two could have very well walked their escape. Half a block and a scaled fence later showed a police cruiser that pulled around the intersection, parking in front of the convenience store, arriving late enough not to spot the two but on time enough to hold their pursuers at bay across the street.
"Hey, man, let's go. Let's get the hell out of here, man."
One stuffed his hands inside his coat pockets while the other pulled his hood over his head.
"Hey Manuel, isn't Halloween tomorrow?" asked the hooded man.
Manuel pulled his right hand out of his pocket and tapped the watch across his wrist. "Twelve-ten in the AM, Benny. New day. It's all where it begins."
Benny shrugged. "That don't count officially, man."
"How the hell is that?"
"Yo, man, it's officially tomorrow when you sleep and then wake up the next day. That's when it's tomorrow."
"What?" Manuel half-blurted. "What kind of lazy ass thinkin' is that? People's whacked out and/or lazy ass sleeping schedule does not dictate the world's time standards. That shit don't work out that way."
"So? Don't matter." The two turned around the alleyway into the sidewalk, slowing their stride, still recovering from their mile dash across the neighborhood. "When you sleep, your body audits itself out to balance, so that when you wake up, all your shit inside you's reset for a new day. Thus, your body thinks it's tomorrow, thus it is tomorrow."
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
Manuel raised an eyebrow towards Benny. "Yo, I keep tellin' you, man, ya gotta stop reading those health mags at the supermarket. It's screwin' with your head. Seriously."
"Make sense, don't it?" Benny replied.
"No, not really. You're just sounding all crazy. I mean, a'ight, even if what you say is true, how could there be a standard for tomorrow if everyone's definition of tomorrow ranges between eleven in the morning and three in the afternoon when your ass gets up?"
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
Though half of the Washington Heights area was always noisy and loud almost every single minute, it was also relatively desolate almost every night around midnight. The liquor shops and convenience stores were open, and a steady flow of traffic rolled by, but for the most part few dared to walk out in the open around this time, especially being so close to Hell's Kitchen.
"Man, time ain't standard," Benny answered. "I mean, remember al that Einstein shit about relativity or whatever? Time's all, like, fluid and relative or whatever."
"Shit, man you need to . . ." Manuel began.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
But tonight was especially dark, and tonight was especially empty. Aside from the lampposts, nothing else was lit. The wind also sharply picked up momentum, and the air was unusually more chill than usual.
"Yo, man, it just got colder than a mother fucker, man. Let's stop by Zips up ahead and get some coffee or whatever," Manuel suggested.
Benny looked around himself, and up ahead. "Is it just me, or is it that this strip's all dead? Damn, man, NO ONE's around here, and most the lights are off."
Benny's voice echoed slightly throughout the walls and the nearby alleyway they just passed. "Shit's freakin' me out a little."
Their feet tapped across the cold hard sidewalk, their tapping bouncing off the walls and zipping back and forth across the street.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
"Damn," Manuel muttered. "Washington ain't supposed to be dead like this. Nobody's rollin' by on wheels either."
Tap, tap, ta-ta tap, tap.
Both Benny and Manuel stopped cold in their tracks.
"What the fuck?" Benny breathed.
Ta-tap, ta-tap . . . ta-tap, ta-tap.
Manuel turned around slowly. Behind him, just across the alleyway they crossed, what seemed like a hooded bum was dragging himself across the sides of the building, limping heavily as he was pushing himself against the wall. He was moving away from the two, breathing somewhat heavily as a thick streak of crimson etched behind him.
"Oh, shit, you all right, man?" Manuel asked.
Ta-tap ta-tap . . . ta-tap, ta-tap.
"Damn, that guy's all fucked up," Benny exclaimed.
The bum stopped limping. Pushing his back against the wall, his knees slowly bent until he was sitting down completely. He turned his head to face Benny and Manuel, his eyes staring straight at them.
His pair of eyes - red, wide-open holes stared straight at them.
Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap -
"Get . . . out of here," said the man.
Benny's mouth gaped wide open, while Manuel shouted like a mad-man, tugging at Benny's sleeve.
"Yo, let's get the fuck out of here, man! Let's - "
As soon as Manuel turned around to begin his flight, a dark figure stopped him. Rather, a group of dark figures stopped him. And before he could do anything else, the last thing he would see would be a pair of glowing red eyes, burning of heat and fire.
The end of Benny's day, meanwhile, wouldn't see another tomorrow again.