Hello, I would introduce myself, but my name really isn’t important and doesn’t add any value to this story. Besides, if you’re like most, it would be forgotten shortly after I told you anyway, so why bother. I will tell you, though, that I live here, in this abandoned building. Yes, I know the windows are covered with plastic, most of which are ripped to shreds from the prevailing winds. The brickwork, well, it could use some tender loving care as well, but this is my home. I know it’s nothing special. There is no furniture inside, no luxuries, mostly rubble as looters have taken most everything that had any value to it at all, including most of the light fixtures, which really doesn’t matter much, since the power company turned the electricity off years ago; it was probably for the best. In my opinion, this place is nothing but a huge fire hazard and I would really be nervous if there was still power here.
There are many rooms here, far too many for me to count, but I would guess that this old high-rise once housed several hundred travelers at one time. I’ll even bet it was quite nice to stay here, back in the day. At night it gets pretty scary, though, and I try to hide as high as I can get while still having shelter over my head, as bad people come and deal their drugs and pimp their women in the disgusting rooms below. At times, gangs would show up and start small campfires on the ground level, and they would throw big parties, loud parties. I can smell the smoke from the fires they build all the way to the rooftop, and I try hard not to get asphyxiated, while I worry about my home going up in flames. I don’t mind that they come here, though, as they always leave me a little something behind, something for me to clean up after – a few breadcrumbs here, a spilt bag of potato chips there. Food is food, and when you’re in my position, it’s hard to be picky. By morning, the drug dealers, the gang members, and the partiers have all gone except for the ones left in their drunken stupors, wandering around aimlessly, running into unstable walls and tripping over debris. Eventually, things become peaceful, except for the noise of the construction workers busy renovating the building for future apartments or dorm rooms for the nearby college. They have a lot of work to do, and by the looks of things, they are going to be here a very, very long time.
The workers don’t scare me much. I can pretty much always stay hidden from them. After all, they’re here to do their jobs, and with the exception of a couple of mean workers yelling at me to get out of here when I’m seen, or maybe a rock or two thrown in my direction, I’m OK with them being here as well. But then I have to be; after all, this is my home. There are plenty of rooms to hide in, and I can always go to the roof when things get hectic, and I have, more times than I can remember. It’s safer up there anyway, and on sunny days it’s quite nice. After all, it has a perfect view of the cityscape and the river below, where I bathe and I drink. There is never a problem finding a crevice to hide in when it rains as long as others aren’t there doing the same. Like I said, the view is nice when it’s sunny, and at times, it can get a bit crowded up there, as everyone tends to flock to the rooftop on nice, hot, sunny days.
I’m worried nowadays, though. Not because of the economy, like most. It doesn’t really have much affect on me, although I have to admit that the economy is bad here and many people have left the city, and the state for that matter, in search of jobs. I’m worried about the other ones, the ones who don’t have permanent housing like me, the ones who come and go here as they please. The “drifters” and the “homeless” is what some call them. Yes, we do get our regulars here, ones who do call this old abandoned palace their home from time to time, even if they only stay a night or two and then move on to who knows where, only to return at a later date. Even though we hardly talk to one another, we do pass each other in the dark hallways, in the rooms, and quite often on the rooftop. At times we even spook each other, not knowing the other is there. Then we flee in separate directions in a flurry of dust and haste, only to realize that it was just another one of our own, someone else trying to keep warm at night with whatever shelter is available at the time. What I’m really worried about is that our numbers seem to be dwindling here as well, and believe me, it’s not because we are out looking for work. We choose to live as we do. I’m worried because I’m seeing less and less of us each day, and I hate to say it but rumors have it that a killer may have moved into our wonderful domain.
Some have said they’ve seen something, but they say that it happened so quickly that it’s like a blur to them. One minute you’re there, and the next second you’re gone, without a trace, except for a little stirred up dust and maybe a loose garment that fell behind. Most of us just keep silent, hoping not to be the next victim, and hopeful to get passed by as if it were the black plague. It seems more and more of us disappear each and every day. Now we live in fear.
This feeling I have is all too familiar to me. When I was younger, say four or five years ago, I remember being kept hidden inside for what seemed like weeks if not months. My parents would not let me go outside for something bad was happening, something that couldn’t be explained, or so they said. I was young but I still noticed things. I noticed that our population was not as it was weeks or even days earlier. I was afraid that whatever happened then is happening again now, but this time I’m old enough to experience it for myself, since both my parents have since passed.
One day I saw him for myself, the assumed killer that is, and when I did it stopped me dead in my tracks. At first, I couldn’t believe my eyes and rubbed them several times in disbelief, but it was true. A killer had indeed taken up residency here in my building, in our building, for those of us who were still left. One day I was up on the rooftop when I overheard some chatter off in the distance. I moved closer for a better look. I neared the edge of the building, being careful that the gusting wind didn’t push me over the edge. The wind was very strong and it was a long way down to the street below. As I got closer to the edge, the noise I heard got louder and louder, a noise that sounded so familiar, yet one I had never heard before. Or had I? My curiosity got the best of me and I dearly hoped that it would not be the end of me. I peeked down from the rooftop to a ledge, no more than four feet below. There he sat. I froze in place and hoped to Heaven that he couldn’t hear my knees knocking together as I stood there in fear, shaking like a leaf. The killer was huge, bigger than most who pass by here. He was a monster in my eyes and probably in the eyes of many. He looked strong enough to rip you apart with no effort at all. I knew I had to get out of there and head for shelter, but shelter was a ways away and I couldn’t get my legs to cooperate. I knew if the killer’s eyes locked on mine I was a goner for sure. There would be no escape for me. His size and his speed would simply overtake me in no time at all. My only comfort was that I knew if he did catch me, he would hit me with such force that I would die a literally painless death. I tried very hard to take comfort in this thought, but it wasn’t working. I truly was petrified of this natural-born killing machine.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, they did. A large shadow appeared on the rooftop, accelerating toward me at a high rate of speed. I knew what it was in an instant, as a lump formed deep in my throat. There wasn’t just one killer on the loose, there were two. By instinct, I did my best to flee the scene. I darted one way, then another, trying to avoid the inevitable attack, but I knew deep inside that a mere Pigeon was no match for the masterful hunting skills of a Peregrine Falcon. Once again, I tried to take comfort in knowing that at least it will be a painless death.
The end.
Author’s note:
In April 2009, a pair of Peregrine Falcons nested on the top ledge of the old Durant Hotel in Flint, Michigan. I had the pleasure and the privilege to witness and document this historical event and ran a daily photographic blog on the family from Memorial weekend to shortly after the Fourth of July. I took more than 3,000 photos, and I witnessed many things, including the rearing of their young. The feeding and, of course, their skillful hunting abilities. During this time, I bonded with the family and knew them by name, Barry the dad from Ohio, Majesty the mom from Ontario, Canada, and little Maize, their fledgling, who eventually came up missing shortly before the closing of my blog. At the time of this writing, her whereabouts and condition are still unknown. I even painted a painting of them, which is now available for sale in print form. While watching this family every day for weeks, I came up with the story that you have just read. I hope you enjoyed it.
You can view the blog at www.danwaltz.com/blog.html, which includes the step-by-step process of the painting I painted.
© 2009 Dan Waltz
Title winner: Joani Waterson
Edited by: Tony Root & Jan Waltz
Story Written & Illustrated by Dan Waltz
