The ground was coarse and wet, and the rain, a cold, biting, November rain, had water trickling across his swollen face. Many sharp and unpleasant pebbles, although tiny, had made their way inside his cheek.
Arch was laying in a narrow alley, his face planted on the wet cement. Right next to him, a squeaky rat was going through the trash, in hopes of appeasing its hunger. He was still coughing and shaking, and cold water was washing the blood off his face. Lifting his head off the ground, he looked at the moon, which peeped out over a building's roof.
It was his own fault, one could argue. Why meddle in others' business?
Why care if they were harassing her? That wasn't his fault!
He was mad at himself. He knew he didn't stand a chance; with three huge thugs facing a scrawny 18-year-old, the outcome had been certain from the start; and yet he'd intervened. Why? At least, he thought while trying to get up, he'd bought her enough time to run away.
After managing to miserably stand upright, the boy started to slowly drag his aching body, limping back home. His shift had long ended, and at such an unholy hour, only rats were lurking in that part of town - and bartenders, apparently. He was beaten up in an alley only a couple minutes away from the pub Loonie's, where he'd recently been hired as a bartender: although the pay was decent, this area of the Capital wasn't exactly safe, especially after sunset. He'd always been very careful.
On his walk home, luckily, no one bothered him, apart from the rain, which kept pouring mercilessly. He didn't even have an umbrella.
After entering his house, Arch closed the door behind him, crawled to his bed and immediately fell asleep. He felt as if a boulder had crushed him, turning him, mind and bones, into the finest of dusts. Before closing his eyes, he thought of his grandma Clara. She'd anxiously been waiting for him, but was now sawing logs in a grey worn out armchair, which occupied one corner of the living room. Her grey hair, once a thick brown, ran down her wrinkly face. Beneath her closed eyelids slept a pair of witty blue eyes, of the same color as her gown. She'd been Arch's only family since he could remember. The boy would never admit it, but he cared for her more than he did of his own life: he'd have nothing left without her.
In the morning, that same grandma Clara subjected him to a resounding rebuke:
"... And you didn't even wake me up! What could have happened to you.. You could have..."
"I'm fine, grandma..."
His eyes shifted from his worn out shoes to the old floor.
"Fine? Look at you! You could be mistaken for a misshapen punching bag! - sorry, I... Look, I know you had good reasons to intervene, that's true. But that doesn't mean you had to! You should have called the police! Oh Archy, I.."
"I really am fine, stop crying.. I have to go now, otherwise they'll cut off our electricity again!"
His face was still swollen, and much of his body was covered in bruises; however, he felt better than what he thought. Plus, he really didn't want Clara to worry. He put on his jacket and opened the door, waving. It was still raining, and he couldn't help but sigh.
And so, another day started, just like the one before it, and just like the one that'd follow. Arch didn't really like his job, nor did he hate it. Since every dull day was the same, he didn't really have anything to look forward to. 'I'm like a jellyfish dragged on by the tide' - he thought, while his labored footsteps left behind one of the main crossings in the Capital. Nonetheless, he didn't feel sad, or hopeless. He'd found something he could do, and his salary was decent, so there wasn't much to complain about.
The rain kept pouring, and his umbrella, which didn't strike as particularly new, wasn't of much help. Through its thin, cheap fabric, Time had carved many holes, just in the right spot for the Boy's neck to be met with cold water droplets.
As usual, sidewalks were bustling with people. A big bunch of corporate employees crossed the road next to him, looking all neat and tidy in their elegant, freshly washed suits.
On the opposite side of the street, a beggar was desperately trying to find shelter from the gelid raindrops, while many of the passers-by tried to avoid his smell. For some reason, Arch found himself staring. The beggar was moving towards a shop window. Actually, he was crawling. The rags he wore were soaked, and obstructed his movement.
'Such extreme contrast, and nobody seems to even notice. Maybe we're just used to it. Or perhaps we simply don't care. We've all got our issues, I guess..'
The beggar's eyes suddenly shifted, and the Boy's gaze quickly returned to his own shoes.
A few minutes later, after dribbling through many dense, messy crowds, the Boy passed by the alley.
He stopped, and observed, and thought.
The wet, pebbly ground was still there; scattered around, various trash piles decorated the narrow passage. Last night, after seeing that young girl being surrounded by three imposing figures, he'd run there in hopes of bringing her to safety. However, he still didn't understand why. It really wasn't like him to act with such carelessness and instinctiveness. Sure, grandma instructed him on how princes saved girls from ugly monsters, but those were just stories. In the real world, in the Capital, he had to be careful. One thought spoken aloud, one look at the wrong person, and he'd be history in a matter of minutes. Last night, he'd gotten lucky, but that wouldn't always be the case.
'I wonder how she's doing'
When the door's battered bell announced Arch's arrival, one of the boozers in the corner was already shouting:
"One more! One more!"
'It's seven in the morning...' - Arch thought, but he kept it for himself. Then, just as he was turning around towards the counter, a familiar voice - too familiar, even - shouted:
"Damn you, little brat..! You're one minute late!"
He paused:
".. What the hell happened to your face?"
His boss, the owner of the place - Karl, that was his name - had his tiny, black pupils glued to him; his face, contorted in a peculiar mix of anger and confusion, was already as red as it gets.
"Ah, well, some thugs jumped me yesterday..."
He wasn't brave enough to look him in the eye, so staring at the checkered flooring was the only option.
"Ah.. It's those assholes right around the corner, isn't it? The ones handling some shady business."
Arch slowly nodded, taking off his jacket. Karl stayed silent for a bit, and seemed to be pondering something. He kept fiddling around with his dense charcoal beard.
After filling up the liquor glass he had in his hand, he turned around.
"Don't mess with them ever again."
He didn't seem to be angry anymore. The tone of his voice felt worried, actually. Karl hadn't stricken him as someone particularly caring or kind.
'He's probably worried because of the pub. I mean, I get it...'
As expected, the day went on as normal, without any meaningful or intriguing event, apart from the usual drunk heads fighting and prostitutes in search of customers. The pub's atmosphere, he'd become very accustomed to it. It felt almost calming - in comparison to the chaos of the Capital, that is.
The moon had risen hours ago when the lights turned off at the Loonie's and Arch could finally go home. His back felt as if it had been pierced by a million needless, but the swollen face had gotten slightly better.
'Stupid rain..' - he muttered, opening up the broken umbrella. He was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open, and, after a few steps, he came to the conclusion that his feet had been turned into concrete blocks by an evil witch. His shoes weren't of much help: the old pair of beat up sneakers was letting all the water inside, making him shiver.
While trying to avoid one of the many puddles, it happened.
He was just a few steps past the alley, when a flash of light ate everything.
The buildings, the road and the puddles, the people and the rain, the sky and the moon and the stars.
Bright, blindingly bright.
Then, he saw a huge sound.
For a moment, everything was shaking, and his mind was a total mess. Then, as quickly as it had come, the chaos ceased, and the world stood in a blank, white silence.
He felt dizzy. And he only saw white, bright white.
'What.. What's this!? Have i gone blind!?'
For a while, all the Boy could see was a bright, milky sea.
Then, his eyes slowly readjusted.
'What the..'
He'd fallen to the ground. The whole crowd of people swarming the Capital's roads had fallen. From managers to beggars, everyone's bottoms were sitting on the wet pavement, in a confused, intricate mess. Arch found himself tied up in knot of bodies, some crushing him, others pulling him left and right. An old man was pressing on his left foot, while his right arm got pinched to the ground under a girl's thigh. Normally, the Boy would've been embarrassed, but this time those thoughts didn't even cross his mind.
'What the hell just happened? Is this a.. a solar eclipse? A terrorist attack? An explosion?' - a murmur rose amongst the crowd.
His breathing was heavy, mind and heart racing. Suddenly, he felt his breath failing him and his eyes watering.
"Boy! Hey boy!"
The old man, the one sitting on his left foot, was calling for him.
"Boy! CAN YOU HEAR ME?"
"Yes sir -yes, I hear you.."
"God, what the hell just happened here? Are you ok? Haven't seen this one yet!" - shouted the old man while trying to untie himself from the Boy.
Arch, too startled to answer, started looking around.
Something felt off.
The rain. The rain had stopped.
Slowly, the Boy shifted his gaze up, away from the pile of people on the ground. The sky, previously grey and dark, was now clear.
Something was off.
With their eyes still adjusting after the shock, the Boy, the Old Man, the Girl, the Beggar, everybody started looking up. But among them, not a single one could fathom the picture the sky would paint them.
There it was, barely hiding behind a few, sparse, clouds. It stretched from east to west, cutting the blue in half over their heads. A jagged scar, or a rough wound, that split the firmament was now painted up there. The sky looked as if a massive blade had cut it, slashing trough its blue mass.
The world, suddenly, went silent.
Our little Archy didn't know this yet, but regarding this event, many books would be written by the people of the future.
The Dead End.