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•The Onlooker • A Short Story•

Dear Readers, 

The Onlooker is a Short Story written about Ray Bradbury's 'The Pedestrian'. It follows very similar events from a different point of view, even including parts of speech. 

It was written by your's truly for school in test conditions, so keep in mind that it may seem rushed. Apart from small grammar mistakes, I have chosen to not edit it.

If anyone wants to read the original story, I've commented a link to an online copy:

Enjoy.

THE ONLOOKER

Different. I don't know how many times I had heard that word directed at me. Yes, I was different to most people with my chocolate brown skin, hair and hazel eyes, but that's not what they meant.

They were referring to the fact that I would rather spend my time outdoors, walking and just enjoying nature. Sadly, the one thing I enjoyed the most was frowned upon.

I sighed, looking out my window. The night was always so dark and mysterious. No one was ever out so the quiet covered the streets like a blanket. This was the time that I really wanted to just walk, surrounded by the quiet.

A thump from down the hall tore my gaze away from the window. Hearing footsteps, I closed my curtains and pretended to turn my attention to the device in my hand. I looked up when my bedroom door creaked open, revealing my mum, staring at her viewing screen.

"Kathleen, dinner's almost ready," she said, not looking up from the screen once.

"Okay mum, thanks." 

She nodded and walked away, a series of swears and thumps the only indication that she had left.

With her gone, my gaze fell back to my window, as I pushed the curtains aside. It was a cold night, the slightest bit of frost covering the bottom of my window. I could hardly see the leaf-covered streets in the dim light that the streetlamps gave off. Wanting to feel the cool night air on my face, I attempted to open my window. Please don't squeak, please don't squeak, I thought. Slowly pulling the window upwards, I was rewarded with a rush of frosty air. I smiled widely, moving to lean my arms on the windowsill.

I looked at my viewing screen, now lying on my bed and checked the time. Any minute now, I thought, watching the street intently. Any minute now.

I heard a voice but I couldn't make out what it was saying. I leaned out further to look, a small smile on my face as I saw who it was. The nightwalker, as I liked to call him. He looked like he was whispering to himself as he strolled along, scanning the houses as he went.

I don't know what possessed me to do what I did next. I called out to him, softly, as he grew closer to my house.

"Hello."

He started, his eyes wide as he looked up at where I sat, leaning out the window.

"Hello?"

"Nice night to be walking, a little cold though," I said, smiling right at his confused face.

Yes, it is. What are you doing?" He asked as I began climbing out my window.

"Joining you. We'd attract less attention to ourselves that way," I replied back, climbing down the gutter pipe from my second story bedroom. I was confident, having done this many times as a child.

He seemed surprised, only nodding as he watched me jump onto the ground.

"My name's Kathleen, but you can call me Kathy," I introduced.

"Leonard, Leonard Mead."

I leaned on the brick fence, looking at Leonard. He still seemed on edge.

"My family's not going to notice if that's what you're worried about."

"They're like everybody else? Always on their viewing screens?" As he spoke, Leonard's breath came out in a cloud.

I nodded, "Sadly, yes. I never knew there was someone like me until I saw you walking one night."

"You're sure no one else saw me?"

"Positive."

There was a small silence before I spoke up again. "Where do you usually walk?"

"Anywhere and everywhere. I usually try to stick to back streets, where I wa-."

He stopped as he heard it. The sound of a car driving down the road. I felt the panic rising in my chest, looking to Leonard for assistance.

He stepped through the gate, speedily walking straight over to the pipe I had climbed down earlier.

"I'll help you up," he said, panic clear in his voice.

I hesitated, "What about you?"

"Don't worry, just hurry up."

I placed one foot on his linked hands as he counted down from three. On one, he launched me upwards, just high enough that I could place one foot on top of the downstairs window.

Just as I climbed into my window and shut the curtains, I heard a metallic voice.

"Stand still. Stay where you are! Don't move!"

Curious, I peeked through the small gap in my curtains. A police car?! That's a surprise. I shrunk back down, listening as the conversation continued. It was taking all I had not to burst out and shout at the car, plus anyone in it.

Time seemed to slow down through the entire conversation, making me tune out. I darted up at the words 'Psychiatric Centre for Research on Regressive Tendencies.'

I felt horrible as I parted the curtains slightly, just enough to see Leonard Mead step into the police car and drive off into the night.

The one person I had met that was like me, different, was now something else. Gone.

How was that? I was honestly pretty proud of the result. I really wanted to share this with you guys so I'm so happy that I can and I hope you enjoyed it.

Thanks for reading and don't forget to vote.

Signed, LetterByLetter

30th of June, 2018