Staring down at the side of the building, he figured he was at least fifty stories up from the ground. He blinked carefully and the ambulance pulling in for a quick stop became clearer. Two paramedics immediately rushed out of the vehicle and over towards the dying. He continued to survey the accident. He squatted down enough to sit at the edge, his long legs hanging over with his arms crossed about his chest. All he had to do was wait. It would only be a matter of time before he would have a job to do.
The minutes slowly ticked by and eventually time was up. An hour had passed and he was forced to move on. Up from his perch, he walked to the other side of the skyscraper and peered over the metal railing. Thankfully it was a dark alley and he easily stepped off the edge. Landing with a soft thud, he made his way down the dark corridor - just wanting to add distance between himself and the busy accident scene. Anger was building from the ground up as he thought about who could have possibly wasted his time. It was obvious something had interfered with his task.
As the sights and sounds of a hectic Friday evening grew dimmer, his piercing blue eyes scanned the area in front of him. He could sense that a new job was landing on his door step. Moving to the shadows, he took one silent step after another until he saw the homeless man in front of him. Blood was slowly spreading across the front of the tattered flannel shirt. The weathered fingers of the old man were gripping at it tightly, obviously hoping that the inevitable wouldn't happen. Stepping closer, it was perfectly clear that this man had been wanted for something. For what reason, that was unknown and nobody's concern at the moment. Reaching out his hands, he watched the bleeding human shutter away. It was a normal reaction, humans shying away from the unknown. Every single one of them could feel him close though. There skin would crawl and a cold chill would send shivers down their spine.
"Please...God...not today," The homeless man begged.
As he reached out from the shadows to place a hand on the dying man's forehead, he muttered, "I am not God."
Story Notes:
My response to this August challenge.
It does not have to be backstreet boys
It has to have a Llama in the story
It has to have something about peanut butter in the story
It has to be no longer then 12 chapters
It does not have to be backstreet boys
It has to have a Llama in the story
It has to have something about peanut butter in the story
It has to be no longer then 12 chapters
