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George.

I wish.

By BirdScriptsPublished about a year ago 3 min read
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If walls could talk. I wish. I saw a murder today. I’ve seen people getting mugged, stabbed and even throw up. I’m a New York City subway wall after all. People spray paint, spit and pee on me. But that’s neither here nor there. The murder was absolutely brutal, the worst thing I’ve ever witnessed in all my days since this subway was built. And that was in the 1890s can you believe it. The worst sight. And I can’t run away, call for help, scream! Oh, how I wish I could scream. Or at least help the poor man that laid there dead for over 5 hours. I had to stay here and just watch a lifeless man for over 5 hours. And don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t because no one walked by. Every so often someone would walk by, and just glance at him! They probably thought that he was a homeless man sleeping. His name was George. I know that because he actually is homeless, and I think he believed that I was his home. He slept on me every single day and night. He would tell me all about his life. About how his childhood was. About how he used to get beaten by his mother. And about his first hit of a pipe. George seemed so sad. And now he’s dead. Too bad I can’t talk, because I actually recognized the person who killed him. He comes by from time to time to catch the train. It’s usually very late at night, when there is barely no one down here. Around 6 hours before it starts getting busy, I think people call it midnight, I’m not too sure. But today he came, and was acting like George when he hits his pipe sometimes. Scratching himself and yelling at nothing. He was walking and almost fell of the tracks. He caught himself and seemed very scared. He looked behind him, I’m assuming thinking someone tried to push him on the tracks. I say this due to the way he abruptly turned around and spotted George. He started running up to him, yelling words I’ve never heard before. He then started hitting George, who was just as confused as I was, since George was just peacefully watching him with me. George is a small man. He’s old and doesn’t have any friends but me. He didn’t put up too much of a fight. Looking back at it, he actually didn’t seem to fight back at all. I think this angered the high man, because the next thing that he did was pull out a pocket knife and started stabbing George. It was so sad to see. To have to bare witness to my friends life leave his body, and turn to stone. There were some days where I wish that me and George could trade places. So I then could walk and talk and interact with other humans, but on this day I took that wish back. I knew that the subway was a scary place at times. But to know what it like to be human and then be turned to stone without your consent… is absolutely terrifying. I don’t wish to be about of their society anymore. Today, I lost faith… and I lost a friend. The only person who spoke to me as if I was somebody, as if he could hear me. The guy ended up running away when he realized what he had done. When enough blood poured out of George, for someone to step in its puddle… that’s when he finally was found. Police arrived and then the ambulance. I over heard the coo talk about how there wasn’t much evidence to go off of. And how he was homless so there wasn’t much they could do. If only I could talk… there would be.

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About the Creator

BirdScripts

Spirit refuses to be in one place. But rather feel all places. Feel whole and free when the arts of my heart spread its its wings. We admire the moon in the sky where our eyes are aligned, just as the sun, just the same.

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