Fell of Dark by Patrick Downes Read Free Book Online Page B

teeth.
    â€œRight?” Holt looked at the ceiling. “Thorn?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWhy do you do that?” Holt’s anger spilled out again. “We’re friends, yes?” he said.
    I shrugged. “I guess.” I opened the cut on my thumb, and it bled.
    Holt watched as I stopped the bleeding with my T-shirt.
    â€œThorn?” Holt bent forward in his chair. “Do you remember the story I told this morning?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhat would you have done with the barber?”
    I checked my thumb. “I wouldn’t’ve walked away.”
    Holt cleared his throat. “Yes, that’s probably true. But what would you have done?”
    â€œWas it you?” I spoke to my bleeding thumb. “I won’t tell. I just want to know.”
    Holt loosened his green knit tie and unbuttoned his collar. “Did you steal that money from John?”
    â€œYes,” I lied. Strong. Who knows what happened to the dum-dum’s money? “I stole it.”
    â€œYou—”
    I interrupted him. “So was it you in the story?”
    â€œI swear I’ll have you thrown out of this school.”
    â€œWhatever,” I said. “You can’t stand up to a man, and you can’t stand up to a boy.”
    Holt pushed his chair away and walked to the classroom door. He shook as he closed the door.
    I knew what was coming. I wanted him to do it.
    â€œIt was you. Just say it. It doesn’t matter. A rude and stupid barber: so what? Like you said, we all have stories. Just say it.”
    â€œShut up, Thorn, shut up.”
    â€œJust say it, Mr. Holt.” I stood up. “Just say, ‘The barber was rude to me, and I couldn’t do anything about it.’ Say it.”
    â€œThorn.”
    â€œSay it, Mr. Holt. I know it’s you. Tell the truth. Say it’s you. Say it. Say it, and we can go home.”
    The slap, when it came, crumpled me against the desk. I must have cried out. But Holt would’ve heard only a hum coming from his right hand. A hum surrounded by silence.

    We are the Guardians. We speak. Listen to us.
    Human beings.
    Human beings. All of you. We know your kind.
    nocourage notruth nocourage notruth nocourage notruth nocourage notruth nocourage notruth nocourage notruth nocourage notruth
    no courage no truth
    We know your kind. You don’t want to think, you don’t want to care, you don’t want to have mercy, you don’t want to show consideration. You want your comfort. You want your protection.
    No truth. No courage.
    Worthless.

    A pigeon followed me. “Go away.” The bird kept coming. “Get away from me.” It went up the front steps of the apartment building, and as I went up in the elevator, I heard it walking up the façade, up the concrete walls, up and up, its talons clicking. Why didn’t it fly?
    The pigeon found my room. It started pecking a hole through the glass of my window. It stopped only to tell me one thing. “It’s no use,” it said. “I’ll get to you.” I heard it as if it were on the inside of the glass, not on the outside.
    How could a pigeon talk to me? And how could it kill me? Did Kulthat send it out of hell?
    â€œThis is ridiculous,” I said. “You can’t kill me.”
    â€œWatch me.”
    â€œI’ll kill you first.” This seemed like a good idea. “I’ll kill you first. I’ll kill you first.”
    â€œNo you won’t.”
    I opened the window, and the pigeon swelled up. I grabbed it, and it pecked at my fingers. My knuckles. I got angry.
    I crushed it in my hands. Once I saw a bus run over a pigeon, and the bird burst like a paper bag filled with air. POP!
    Those hollow bones broke. POP!
    This happened with the demon-bird. It popped. Then it disappeared from my hands. I stood at the window. Blood on my face, my shirt, my hands. The pigeon gone, gone like it was never there.

    The pigeon had