The Smell of Pain on the Sidewalk Bleeding by Shkelqim Ibishi

The Smell of Pain on the Sidewalk Bleeding by Shkelqim Ibishi

The smell of pain

On the Sidewalk Bleeding By Shkelqim Ibishi

The Boy Lay in the rain as blood keep gushing out of the whole from the jab of the knife, “said Shkelqim Ibishi”. The witnesses said that the boys that stabbed him from behind said “You’re the tough royal eh” ass they speeded away from the young loved Boy . The Boys name was Andy Lee 15, as said on the scripted in his black thread on the front of his jacket, just over the heart. Andy had been stabbed 10 minutes ago. The knife hit him just below his rib cage as it struck him to the ground, tearing a wide gap in his flesh. He lay on the sidewalk for 10 minutes with the March rain drilling his jacket and drilling his body and washing away the blood that was pouring from his gash. He could even smell the pain that he was in, When the knife had hit him it and torn across his body and then sudden comparative relief when the blade was pulled away. As footsteps hurrying into the rain and fallen to the sidewalk, clutching his stomach to stop the flow of the blood.

He tried to call for help but he had no voice. He did not know why his voice had deserted him, or why the rain had become so suddenly fierce, or why there was an open hole in his body from which his life ran redly steadily. It was 11:30 pm but he did not know the time. There was another thing he did not know. He did not know that he was dying. He lay on the sidewalk, bleeding, and he thought only: that was a fierce rumble. They got me good that time, but he did not know he was dying. He would have been frightened had he known. They got me good that time, but he did not know he was dying. He would have been frightened had he known. In his ignorance he laid bleeding and wishing he could cry out for help, but there was no voice in his throat. There was only the bubbling of blood from between his lips whenever he opened his mouth to speak. He lay in his pain, waiting, waiting for someone to find him.

He heard the sound of automobile tires hushed on the rain swept streets, far away at the other end of the long alley. He lay with his face pressed to the sidewalk, and he could see the splash of neon far away at the other end of the alley, tinting the pavement red and green, slickly brilliant in the rain.

He wondered if Laura would be angry. He had left the jump to get a package of cigarettes. He had told her that he would be back in a few minutes, and then he had gone downstairs and found the candy store closed. He knew that Alfredo's on the next block would be open. He had walked through the alley, and that was when he had been ambushed.

He could hear the faint sound of music now, coming from a long, long way off. He wondered if Laura was dancing, wondered if she had missed him yet. Maybe she thought he wasn't coming back. Maybe she thought he'd cut out for good. Maybe she had already left the jump and gone home. He had thought of her face, the brown eyes and the jet-black hair, and thinking of her he forgot his pain a little, forgot that blood was rushing from his body.

Someday he thought would marry Laura. Someday he thought he would marry her, and that they would have a lot of kids, and then they would get out of the neighborhood. They would move to a clean project in the Bronx, or maybe even they would move to Staten Island. If they were married, and if they had had kids.

He had heard footsteps at the other end of the alley, and he lifted his cheek from the sidewalk and looked into the darkness and tried to cry out, but again there was only a soft hissing bubble of blood on his mouth.

The man came down the alley. He had not seen Andy yet. He walked, and then stopped to lean against the brick of the building, and then walked again. He saw Andy then and came toward him, and he stood over him for a long time, the minutes ticking, ticking, watching him and not speaking.

Then he had said, "What's the matter, buddy'?"

Andy could not speak, and he could barely move. He lifted his face slightly and looked up at the man, and in the rain swept alley he smelled the sickening odor of alcohol. The man was drunk.

The man was smiling.

"Did you fall down, buddy?" he asked. "You must be as drunk as I am." He squatted alongside Andy.

'You gonna catch cold there," he said. "What's the matter? You like layin' in the wet?"

Andy could not answer. The rain spattered around them.

You like a drink?"

Andy shook his head.

"I gotta bottle. Here," the