Short Story: The Helpless

This time I share one of my short story with you that is about a helpless man who had been refusing giving help to others till he has become helpless himself. The story has its moral, has its creepy stuff and has a wattpad account related to it that is mine and I recommend you to visit HAHAHA: benya0505

Drawing by D.Doumir :3

The Helpless

I’ve been thinking on feigned stories for about an hour. I don’t know exactly what time it is, but it could be at three when the police knocked on my door and I must spend half an hour in the policecar. So it may be about five; however, I can’t recall clearly how my  arrest was going to happen. It was so fast with the knocks on the door, the policecar, and my current room. Nobody told me anything – although for me it was obvious what was going on. Maybe, I’ve given myself away already… I should have had more panicking questions, being indignant and shouting in despair. Maybe, they already know the whole case and this is why they don’t come to question me. Maybe, I should have…
“Consciousness! Take a pull on yourself and make an effort! That’s all you should do…” – I was talking to myself.
“We need a plan as usual, we can do it! Just a good story is needed… C’mon, think!” I put my face into my palms, having a short look on the room. It was a little room with gray and white painting and a big mirror on the wall. It had a strong white neon light and a desk with two chairs in the middle. “So you enjoy the sightseeing? You’re not in a hotel-room! You need a bomb-proof alibi, my friend.”
That was right. I’m falling into the stupid trap of Murphy; I am the most careless person on the Earth; I say, who cares what time is it now or how is the painting on the wall. Look how stupid the human mind is. When I need to be a little bit cautious, it acts carelessly. Then in a situation that needs some sober thinking, it starts to notice the least important little things around me. But now, the most important thing is that I am in trouble now, and I need a story – a story that can help me to get out of here.
How bitter and funny at the same time the fact that a weak indication to help somebody – for the first time in my life – has led me into trouble, needing help myself. “Help yourself first, before you help anybody. Help only yourself.” This is all my fault. I put myself into this situation, breaking the rules, my own rule of “avoiding to give or get any help”.
“Look now, you are in a big need of help. Your own mind lets you down now and it has all the right to do this. It follows YOUR rules. Your own rules.”
I spent a couple of minutes in the guilty silence with my face still buried into my hands. “How it happened?”
“I was just walking on the street – to the work probably. When it started, I was just waiting at a zebra crossing next to an old blind man. The lamp just turned green and I just did what I had to do… to go.”
“My eyes caught a look of reproach from a pedestrian coming over against me. I don’t know if it was said only in my head, but I clearly heard: “C’MON! IT’S AN OLD BLIND MAN!” As a reply, I don’t know if I said it only in my head too, or I said it loudly, but I clearly heard my hesitating voice: “I-I-m so-o-ry!” Then, the judging eyes turned after me with the old man accompanied, so I put on a hurry march to get to the workplace.”
“It’s his problem, not mine. I don’t care. It has no effect on me.” I said then, but I soon realized that it had a heavy effect on me, a quite embarrassing one… I just heard again that sound of reproach in my head, passing by every hobo, beggar and such miserable figures: “BUT IT’S JUST AN OLD POOR MAN”. I was driving crazy, starting arguments with my own head. “Who cares. Who DAMN cares?” I left the work earlier that day. My head was rather numb filled with only one sound that was mine, begging “LEAVE MY LONELINESS UNBROKEN!” I was in strong need of some sleep. I was walking on the street again, stopping and hesitating at the place where I had the uncomfortable incident. I just passed through that zebra crossing again, murmuring “No blind men.” I calmed down a little bit. “Now, let’s hurry up, before another wild blind man just appears and brings the voices back.” I left the zebra crossing almost running when I turned in at a corner where I ran right into a woman, into a weak creature with a carton box in her hands. Both fell down on the ground with a big bunch of paper spreading on the street. She was looking right into my eyes, sitting there with spread knees on the air. “What to say?” I asked myself. No answer, silent, my head was empty. There was no voices anymore, but the echoing “I don’t care – I don’t care – I don’t care.” I was standing there remained rooted to the spot, looking into those mesmerizing eyes and feeling urged to say something. “I don’t care – I don’t care.” I still heard the embarrassing sounds in my head. “How could I don’t care… looking into such eyes. What a weak creature!”  I opened my mouth, saying “I.. don’t.. I didn’t mean it. I-I-m so-o-ry.” The ice finally broke up and I dropped myself to the earth in hurry to help her. She sat up too and started to gather the papers blindly touching on the ground while she was smiling into my eyes. I never felt such thing before. I was charmed; I had no goal, no place to go except of her. After we stood up with the box lying in our hands, I asked her where she was going and what she was doing; to my greatest pleasure, she was willing to tell his story while I was escorting her home. She offered me a coffee at the door of her flat then we went up to the rooftop, speaking under dark sky’s stars and looking down at the little spotlights of the cars on the road. “I’ve just moved here. I can’t bear my life at the old place. I’ve come in hope of something will change.” Her voice like a quality recording echoed in my ears, it burned into my memory. She was holding my hand being upside there, leaning on the handrails. I felt eager to say something at that moment when she was complaining about her pains such as “My life is stuck in a grey monotonous circuit. It sucks”. I wanted to tell her we shared the same plain life and for the first time I found it great, because I must thank this plain for we found each other. I was about to tell it, tell that she was the best thing that happened to be in my life.Then she just continued, “This world is mad”.  “Yea” I affirmed, while she had a break. “Imagine, for me, helping people is the only thing that makes me feel alive. There’s no better than humanity.” I kept silent. “Now imagine, I just saw today an old blind man waiting at a zebra crossing for more than thirty minutes. I saw him from here. Look! There is that street, right after where we met.” I swallowed heavily on my dry throat, while she stepped on the iron bar into the heights to show me the point that I knew more than quite well enough. “I couldn’t see his suffering” she continued, “I must help him, so I ran down to the streets where the poor old man was waiting. I was in hurry to help him. Then on the zebra crossing I just passed by a grumpy idiot who instead of helping the old man, told him sorry like a jerk that he couldn’t even hear. It’s unbelievable. That monsters like him exist. He said sorry! Sorry for calming his conscience, but not helping. I wish for looking at his eyes again and ask him. What would he say?” She turned at me, still standing on edge of the building in the height. I was looking at the ground with turned-down head. I was empty. I felt myself a monster, but I felt a big knot in my throat to say something. I looked up right into her confused eyes. She was looking and looking at my eyes as long as they rounded in a horrific absurd surprise and she stepped back.
“That’s all for the recordings?” asked me the officer with a senseless voice. “Ehm. Something. It was as if she took my whole soul with herself falling.”
“Then why did you just left the flat instead of doing anything?” “I couldn’t do anything. I felt myself an empty carcass, I was confused, I needed some sleep.” “So you went home to have a nap, then the police perturbed your siesta.” “I couldn’t enjoy it; every time I closed my eyes, she was before me laughing.” “Laughing?” “No, I mean crying…”
The officer turned off the recorder and put the files straight.
“Am I in trouble, officer?” I asked.
“For sure.” He answered.
“Am I accused?”
“You are helpless.”
“For what am I accused?” I jumped up.
“Only for being a monster. – sigh – You can leave now.”
He left the room, and I fell back to my chair with my face in my hands, smiling…




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