Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Witness

Looking over his shoulder had become a way of life. Jasper hadn’t meant to see

what he saw. Jasper didn’t know if they saw him see. He had been at the wrong

place at the wrong time and all he could do about it was look over his shoulder.

Jasper spent most of his days with CNN on the TV while his withering frame

paced in his childhood bedroom looking out the window. He mumbled apologies

to no one and bargained with God that they never find him while stroking his

patchy beard. He hadn’t returned to his loft apartment in a week. His job had

called him for the first three days of missed shifts. He didn’t want to answer his

cell phone for fear they had taped the line. The dark circles under his eyes and

the deep lines on his face were tell-tale signs of his lack of sleep. That morning he

noticed that the mailman was not the same mailman he had seen since he

returned to his childhood home. He packed a duffle bag with essentials and paced

his room for another hour trying to decide if it was safer for him to leave or stay.

The gentle rap of his elderly mother’s knuckles on the door sent a jolt up his

spine. While she spoke to him regarding her concern his blood shot eyes darted

from the window, to the TV, to his mother. He couldn’t hear what she was saying

over his thoughts. The mailman was going to tell them where he was. They were

going to hurt his mother to get to him.

Without saying a word Jasper pushed past his mother, nearly knocking her out of

her walker. While he clutched his bag close to his chest he sprinted down the

stairs. He bounced from window to window looking for them or the mailman. He

opened the front door then slammed it quickly. His heart pounded in his chest.

His mother slowly descended the steps speaking to him in a frantic tone. He tilted

his greasy head at her. Was she speaking in another language? Why could he not

understand her? Did she tell them where he was? There was no place that was

safe. He dropped his bag and grabbed two tufts of tangled hair on either side of

his head and screamed. His mother reached for his bag and he pulled it from her;

he snarled and accused her of betrayal.

Jasper ran to the back door and peaked out the windows looking through the

backyard. He had stowed his car in his mother’s shed. He knew that since she had

told them where he was he couldn’t take her car or his, they would both be

bombed. He heard the scrape of his mother’s walker behind him, and he turned

on his heel opening the back door. He had no other choice he had to go for it!

Foam dripped from Jasper’s mouth past his gritted teeth. He pulled and fought

with the restraints that held him in the hospital bed. He screamed at the top of his

lungs. Why had his mother done this to him? Why had his mother served him on a

platter for them? They would surely find him there. Any person that came into

his area he told them he didn’t mean to see. He told them he wouldn’t say

anything. Not one person acknowledged him. The only way to survive would be

for him to get out of the restraints. He twisted his arms and pulled at them trying

to loosen them. People around him told him to be quiet.

A man walked into the room in a white lab coat and shiny black dress shoes.

Jasper’s mouth formed into an “O” of fear. It was the man he saw. He pulled

harder at his restraints and screamed louder. The man approached him with a

needle. He had been caught! They knew he had seen! Jasper was going to be

silenced. Two men dressed as security officers held Jasper down while he tensed

every muscle in his body. He attempted to fight them off, but it was of no use. He

plead with the man and apologized for seeing. He begged the man not to do it. The

prick of the needle sealed his fate; the burn of the liquid in his veins told him all

he needed to know. Jasper fought against the restraints for a few more seconds

before his eyes began to sag and his mind began to cloud. He closed his eyes to

allow it all to take place. It was over.

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