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Hold Up First your hands go up. Itís the natural thing to do. Perhaps youíve seen so many hostage movies that it just becomes second nature. When people raise their hands in movies, nobody gets shot. Or maybe you think that if you show him youíre unarmed heíll put the gun away. Maybe the cold blooded human being staring into your eyes will have a have a change of heart. You ask him what the problem is. This just isnít your day. Those are frightening word, so you slowly begin to back up. Your eyes are searching the surrounding area, looking for either some kind of sign to prove youíll be alright or an exit, an escape. There isnít one. The truth is that you were just being dumb. The street is empty. Itís secluded. The lights are dimmed and you are at least a quarter of a mile away from the happily dancing people. You knowingly walked away from masses of people, your last line of defense for this sort of thing, and now you are about to pay the price. You take another step back, itís a small one, but he notices. He steps toward you, raising the gun and screaming. You, however, cannot scream. Do not scream. He tells you that his buddies are on the way. Do not move, he says. Listen, you plead, I donít have anything, just let me go. You point down a pitch black alleyway. One youíd never seen, one you donít even know the name of. He looks down the same alley, his eyebrows raise. You can see his miniscule brain is working, studying. You try to act calm, knowing even. You may have him. You tell him youíll go straight home, this will be the end of it. The sound of a motorcycle distracts both you and him from the story. Two men with weapons are riding; you know this may be it. You take another step back when you notice he is looking for help from his friends. You run. You run up the dark alley you pointed to only moments earlier. You run faster that you ever thought possible, but time and your legs have never moved slower.
Date Written: June 20, 2006