Dario

Dario

The world suddenly slipped into black and white for Dario. Just for a few seconds, and then colour returned to his vision.
“Oh, no way. Not again,” Dario muttered.
He had stopped walking in the middle of the crowded town square. People walked all around him, like little ants, never stopping for even a moment. But Dario had stopped, more through frustration and desperation than fear. But fear played a part. Not fear for himself, however. Fear for someone else. Whoever else was the unlucky one. But he had no time for fear.

He began to move. Slowly, tentatively at first, not sure where he was looking to go. He whipped his sunglasses off his face, letting them dangle by his side in his right hand. Then he began to move quickly. Running.
“Where, where goddamit?” he muttered, expecting no answer.
But he continued to run, following his natural born instinct. Running straight, weaving between people, even though this was unnecessary for Dario.

Then he stopped. He felt something inside of him. That instinct again. Told him he was so close. So very close. He looked all around him, in all different directions. Then he saw the alley. About twenty feet ahead of him, off to the right. He didn’t understand how he knew to go there. He just did. And he had no time to ponder on the why. He moved again. Sprinting, charging forwards. When he arrived at the alley, he turned right, into the alley. It was dark despite it being the middle of the day. Dario stopped, stood still, staring into the alley. Sunglasses still dangling from his fingers, by his side.

The alley was empty. Nothing except bins and rubbish. Plastic bags moving gently, swaying in the wind.
Dario was early. He would have to wait. But not long, as a door suddenly swung open from further down the alley. A man flew out, stumbling, losing his balance and landing on the floor, on his back. That was when Dario got a first glance, only a quick one, at the mans face. It was quite bloodied. Presumably it had seen better days. The nose looked like it was at an unusual angle. As if it had been subject to some kind of hard impact. Dario assumed it was obviously a punch, or some blunt object slammed with great force into the man’s face.

The man began to push himself off the floor, awkwardly pushing himself up with his hands. His arms wobbled under the pressure, protesting against holding the weight of his body up. Clearly weak and distressed, the man put his knees on the ground, still with his hands flat on the ground also, arms still shaking. He clearly needed to rest. The effort of standing was too much too soon.

The door near him began to swing inwards, closing. Voices were coming from within the building. Loud voices, almost as if they were arguing. But Dario could not make out any words, especially since the voices were now completely muffled, coming through the closed door. But the voices definitely sounded aggressive. Angry. Threatening.

The man on the ground had begun to crawl, head down, looking into the ground. He slowly swivelled his body, facing Dario, and began to crawl towards him. Towards the end of the alley. He had a long way to go though. It didn’t look too promising from the man. But Dario had seen another blood stain. This one was on the man’s white shirt. A rather large pool of blood, just above the hip area on the man’s right hand side. It looked as though the man had been stabbed. This information made Dario feel even more sad and desperate than he had done previously. This scene had definitely been what Dario had been attracted to. This was why his vision had gone black and white for a few seconds. Like always, it had sent that shudder of fear through Dario, sending shivers all the way down his spine.

The door further down the alley began to swing open once again.
“I will, now shut up!” came a voice from the doorway, much clearer now.
“Just make sure you do,” came another voice, less clear, and obviously further away, further inside the building.
“Damn it,” the original voice said, as his body came out of the door, into the open alley.

A big man. Short, black hair. He seemed to have a scar down the left side of his face, which was the side Dario could see. There was something completely sinister about the appearance of this man. And this increased the amount of dread that Dario felt.

The big man walked over to where the victim was trying to crawl away. He scowled down at his victim, squinting. He looked viscous. Continuing to scowl, he lifted his foot, and planted it on the back of the victim. Pushing down with force, he gradually moved the victim closer to the ground. The victim’s arms were wobbling underneath him with the effort of holding him up, with the added pressure of the big man’s foot. With a grunt, symbolising the big man’s extra force, the victim was forced all the way to the ground, back into a lying down position, flat on the ground.

“It looks like the end of the road for you, my friend,” the big man said, foot still on the victim’s back, even though he was lying flat on the ground.
The victim grunted something. Dario could not make out whether or not it was an actual word, or just a desperate sound. Then he tried again, clearer this time.
“Why?”

That was the only word the victim could manage, and even that was barely audible. It was half grunt, half groan. It wouldn’t be long until this man died anyway, Dario thought. If he was left on his own, he seemed beaten enough to only survive for maybe twenty minutes or so. Blood loss looked like a real issue, with that wound just above his hip seeming to pour blood out at a rather rapid rate. The victim probably didn’t have the strength to crawl all the way to the end of the alley anyway. It seemed as if this man was going to die. With or without the help of the big man.

“Why?” the big man repeated, as if trying to confirm that this was what the victim had grunted.
He received no reply. Just a strange kind of wheezing from his victim.
“I am in no circumstance about to waste my time telling you why. You would never understand, anyway. I am part of something far bigger than anything you could ever imagine. And now you are a part of it too. A tiny part, but a part,” the man said, snorting as if he had said something genuinely clever and funny.

Once again, the victim could manage no reply. He wasn’t even struggling under the big man’s foot. So the big man removed his foot from the small of the victim’s back.
“It’s over,” the big man said, pulling something out from the back of his trousers.
A knife. A big one as well. This would definitely finish the job. He began to raise the knife, and Dario knew he had to do something.

He turned away, turning his back on this horrific scene. He looked down at the floor. Heard the final gasp, then grunt of the victim. The last actions of his life. Dario felt desperate. He wanted to help the victim so badly. But he couldn’t.
After all, what could a spirit do in this situation?

It was always the same. He found the scene of the crime in time to help, but he never could. He couldn’t even touch a can of soda, talk about prevent a murder.
Dario had to face it. He had been useless in life. And now he was useless in death. Surely being useless for eternity was man’s biggest fear.
He began to walk away. Desperate. Helpless. Useless.