WallPosted: September 13, 2011
“I’m on my way home. You want anything? You sure? Okay.”
I dropped the phone and took my usual route home. The one thing about “having the usual” is that you’ll always notice when there’s something new or out-of-place or, well, unusual. As you can probably predict, the unusual came by and I should just get to the point.
There was a wall. A white one. Okay, that’s not the unusual thing. Not saying that walls cannot be unusual. No, far from it. If a wall were to change color everyday, or were to phase between universes, then certainly that would be highly unusual. But not this wall. It was pretty much your standard cement wall: hard, cold tangible, fixed, and could very well be impregnable without the use of a large object or explosives.
However, the man who stood in front of it was a different story. As I approached him, I realized he was banging his head against the wall. I came up and tried to stop the silliness because, last I checked, wall beats head about 99.99999999999% of the time. But the man resisted my help, pushing me back each time I came closer. At that point, I thought the best thing to do was to ask questions.
Questions like… why?
“Because I have to get to the other side of this wall by breaking it.”
…what’s on the other side?
“What’s on this side?”
… (what did that even mean?)
… why use your head?
“Coz I don’t have tools. Can’t afford them. And my body is all the force I need”
… why not your hands?
“I don’t want to break my hands! Duh!”
When I ran out of questions to ask, all I could do was stare. It was oddly captivating. Trying to stop him would have been a futile exercise so I just stood there, and forgot that I was actually on my way home. His forehead, naturally, began to swell up until, finally, blood starting gushing out of the gash, painting the immaculate whiteness of the wall red.
And then he stopped. He turned his head and gave me a piercing look
“Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna help me?”
So yeah, I helped him. I still am. I’m bleeding now.