Illustration by Thom Futrell © 2007
Cracks
by P.S.Gifford © 2007
“ Don't step on the cracks Paul.”
That is what my mother repeatedly would tell me as a young boy.
And of course, I never did, whenever I walked along the sidewalk, I would do my utmost to avoid them. As a boy I always listened to my mother- well at least I did until I turned twelve. A lot of things changed when I turned twelve.
The thing is though; all my adult life I still avoided them. You might consider this irrational behavior for a thirty-three year old educated professional male. Yet, my mother's nagging still echoed in my mind…And those words of hers surely saved my life.
It was last Tuesday that it all happened.
That afternoon, after many weeks of flirting, I finally plucked up the courage to ask out Sally Jenkins from accounting. She is ten years my junior with a body that would put the Venus De Milo to shame.
We had arranged to meet at O'Leary's, an Irish pub just off Main Street. Being that it was a Tuesday night, it was a quiet evening, and we relaxed and chatted over several pints of stout sat in front of a roaring fireplace.
At the end of the evening, as so often on dates, came that awkward moment.
‘Will she or wouldn't she?' I thought to myself, imagining the carnal delights that possibly lay ahead of me.
Well, the stout had surely strengthened my nerve, and I asked her that clichéd and rather corny question. You know the one, sure you do…You have probably even used it yourself.
“Your place or mine.”
Sally reached over and whispered in my appreciative ear, and her hot breath made me tingle like I had never tingled before. I came out in Goosebumps.
“Yours…” she had said.
So after that, we quickly finished our drinks and fell out of O'Leary's, giddy with passion, hand in hand.
We stumbled down main street- it was gone midnight, and I knew that tomorrow I was going to pay for this dearly. Yet, I simply did not care. For you see I was convinced, it was going to be a night to remember- and for sure I never will forget it. Besides, maybe, just maybe, she was the one I had been searching for.
As we turned and ventured down Fourth Street, and towards my house, my mother's warning words echoed in my intoxicated mind.
‘Don't step on the cracks.'
I giggled the words out loud to Sally, whose green eyes sparkled with such a vibrant energy that I could hardly restrain myself.
So there we were two adults, skipping down Fourth Street, cautiously avoiding the cracks.
I am still not exactly sure quite what transpired next. Although in my mind I have no doubt of what I saw, but I still have a hard time believing it. Perhaps I was drunker than I thought.
Sally suddenly broke free of my hand, and began to run, aimlessly, laughing out loud as she scurried; her blonde shoulder length hair bouncing tantalizingly under the soft illumination offered from a flickering street lamp.
“Chase me Paul,” she had said. “Catch me and I am all yours.”
So I naturally gave chase to my prize, still somehow managing, perhaps unconsciously, to steer clear of those cracks in the pavement, she was at this point several yards ahead of me- tittering and skipping like a young school girl- but I was quickly gaining.
Then, just as she turned her head to gaze at me- it happened. I watched as her delicate foot landed directly on a crack in the sidewalk.
Yet, it was a crack no more; as the pavement all at once opened up, to reveal a giant set of razor sharp teeth. I watched in shock as her leg embedded herself inside its grasp. Then the concrete jaw tightened its bite and closed, with vice like force, and Sally's blood spurted in every conceivable direction. She screamed; a deep agonizing scream that seemed to echo through the deserted streets endlessly. Horrified I raced towards her, to somehow help, still vigilant of where I placed my feet. But before I could reach her, the concrete opened up again, even wider than before, and she slipped just passed her slender waist into the gaping crevice…Then as before the concrete jaw tightened about her, and instantly sliced Sally in two. Her screaming stopped then as what was left of her body went limp. Yet her green eyes remained open, and the fear that was contained in them would make the devil himself quiver, I swear it.
Then, finally with one last obnoxious greedy gulp, Sally was completely devoured. The only evidence that she had been there at all was the blood drenched concrete.
I stood there, in shock, and with trembling fingers retrieved my cell phone from my pocket. I dialed 911, and attempted to tell the operator of what I had just seen. Naturally the person at the other end of the phone considered me either drunk, mad, or a combination of the two. But, she finally succumbed after much sobbing and begging, and curtly told me that she would have an officer come and investigate. I stood there, too terrified to move, still trying to comprehend what had just happened. Twenty minutes later I watched as a squad car pulled up to the side of the curb. A large, hefty officer eased himself out of the vehicle and turned on his flashlight. He flashed it first in my direction and then at the blood stained sidewalk directly in front of me.
He muttered something under his breath, as he made his way towards me, with his hand on this pistol; I desperately tried to warn him…
“Don't step on the cracks; for God's sake don't step on the cracks.”
As he began to lift his weapon from its holster and made his way towards me. I watched every step land on the sidewalk. I began to pray, like I had never prayed before. But no-one listened to my plea for it was on the eighth step, just six feet from me, directly by where Sally had been taken from me, when his luck betrayed him. His oversized right boot landed firmly on a crack- I closed my eyes, too petrified to watch as his agonizing screams filled my ears.
So, as you read this, whether you consider me crazy or not- I implore you-
“ Do not walk on the cracks in the pavement .”
The end.
