A Dark Clothed Man
Let them cower behind their desk and demand the deaths of hundreds. None of it will matter. DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER! DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER!
Winston couldn’t control his hands. The ulcer was flaring and sweat permeated his brow in a vain effort to ebb the pained gasp away. He could not afford the disturbance of anyone right now. A mere breath, was it worth the risk? Gin, that’s what he needed. A cigarette too… No, no, keep writing! He shook his head.
Hands shaking violently, he continued:
There was a disturbance in my building today. I was on my way to the facilities. No one was in the long hall. Those blaring lights and that continuous voice, why doesn’t it know about the migraines it can induce? And then… do I dare tell of that horror? No, not yet.
Brain throbbing in a never ending cycle of brutality, Winston rested the pen against the slim volume. The ink was running dry anyway. He placed his head in sweaty hands. Darkness procured his vision and didn’t plan on giving it back. A face… the man’s face, not of Big Brother but of someone he didn’t know. The dark clothed man in the hallway.
Fear stabbed at his gut. Winston’s breath became fast and his heartbeat felt as if it was going to end its reign within his chest. Any louder and the telescreen a mere foot away would detect it. A distraction he didn’t need. But the paranoia was too great from the scene beforehand. He must write it.
Dabbing violently at the pen, he again set it to paper:
His face was featureless and his gait was slow, cool, and calculated. Something in his dark eyes portrayed great evil. Slow, calculated… I didn’t dare meet his eyes but it happened. A magnetic pull drew me closer to him. We were at opposite ends of the hall. There was no need to stop and say “hi”. No such desire came upon me as we passed in that second.
He was a tall man with a brash gut extending outwards but muscle hidden by his sharp suit. A hawk-like nose angled towards the ground and his thick jowls throbbed with silent mutterings. I could not hear them, nor did I have any desire to. Around his waist I noticed the soft bulge of a weapon- discreetly hidden by his dark suit coat.
Our eyes did not meet and a heavy air of clean shave and rare cologne brought drifted against my left side. I had only reached a few more steps before the noise. A mere whisper; that of a foot meeting padded flooring echoed loudly in my gin addled mind. Why would he desire to stop?
I felt boorish eyes raking the back of my skull. Don’t stop, I kept telling myself. Act unawares. Suddenly a flurry of thoughts entered my head. DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER! DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER YOU FOOL! Turn and turn before it is too late. IGNORANCE IS NOT STRENGTH!
No, I Winston; did not turn. I feared what would befall me in the following actions. It would be his signature action- a bullet striking the back of my neck.