literature

Red, Chapter 1, Part 1

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The young woman with the flashing eyes didn’t say a word. Her pupils were wide despite the sharp sunlight in which she was sitting, but around their black orbs could be glimpsed irises of a bright green. Though she was constantly scanning her surroundings, she didn’t seem to actually see anything. Apart from her constantly moving eyes, she was sitting perfectly still, and had been so for as long as the two young men across the street had been watching her. Still, there was something about her that made her look like she could get up and disappear in a run down the pavement in a matter of seconds. The muscles in her skinny, freckled upper arms were flexed and shaking. A vein in her forehead stood out like a pulsing worm underneath her skin.
       She was sitting with her back against a grey brick wall covered with graffiti, her arms crossed and resting on her bent knees, her face hidden in them and under a fountain of red, long hair, only her eyes visible. Her jeans looked too big for her, and highly uncomfortable in the heat. They were cut off just above the ankle, and from the way she was sitting they now only reached halfway down from her knees, showing off parts of her suntanned legs.
       Colin had noticed her hair and mistook her for being Irish, like himself. He and Brian had first seen her when they turned the corner at Pale Street, by the train station, where they suddenly found themselves faced with delays and a pulsating heat. They had sat down in front of a Spar shop, after buying big bottles of ice cold water, now drinking it greedily. Brian had opened his worn-out copy of a Neil Young biography, and pretended to be reading it. Colin had given up unravelling the cords for his headphones, and squatted next to his backpack, where he had just put his iPod back in a secret pocket under the lid, staring at the woman with undisguised fascination.
       "Oy!", he finally shouted across the street, "You're Irish, yeah?"
       She blinked, but didn't look at them. Brian looked up, in disbelief.
       "Shut the fuck up, you're scaring her," he hissed between cracked lips. Colin wrinkled his forehead in the incredulous way that Brian was beginning to find very annoying, and said "How can you tell? She doesn't even move."
       "Just leave her, okay?" Brian sighed, turning the page of his book demonstratively, although he didn't need to. He hadn't read a word since he opened it. The heat made it hard to concentrate, and the girl's behaviour, or lack of such, fascinated him as much as it did Colin, though he would never admit to it. To his exasperated astonishment, Colin was now getting up on his feet, and his intentions were clear. He grinned at Brian like a disobedient child, and crossed the street.
       She reminded Colin of a wounded squirrel he had once found when he was eight, after the family's cat had attacked it. After he had put it in a box on a bed of cotton, it had been shaking with fear, but unable to move. It died shortly after, even before his parents came home from work. He had buried it in the backyard without telling anyone.
       "It's okay," he said now in a low voice, but with a quick look in Brian's direction, as he sat down next to her. Brian was staring at them, the look on this face almost as infuriated as it was curious. "I won't hurt you, and neither will my friend. You see him over there?" He pointed, not taking his eyes off her. She lifted her eyes and looked.
       "That's Brian, and I'm Colin," he continued, encouraged by her responding to him. She didn't say a word, but seemed calmed by the sound of his voice. He felt rather pleased with himself at that.
       "You have a backpack," he noticed suddenly, "so I'm guessing you're a traveller like us?"
       He could hear her breathing, an uneven, shaky breath, and she lifted her head slightly and nodded. He smiled at her, but she didn't see it. Her eyes were now staring at the pavement again. He was overwhelmed by the desire to brush her hair away from her face, but thought better of it.
       "We're from Australia," he explained, leaning his back to the wall like she did. "Well, I'm Irish, but I've lived in Australia for the past two years. Brian's Australian, though. I met him at university, and now we're travelling together. Where are you from yourself? You look Irish as well," he offered, as a way of getting her started.
       She didn't respond, but seemed more relaxed still, now that she didn't hide her face anymore. She scratched her wrist absentmindedly, and the unexpected movement almost startled him. He tried another approach.
       "Where are you going?"
       She shook her head slightly, almost invisibly, and frowned.
       "You don't know" he asked. She shook her head again, more clearly now. And then she lifted her head, turned it and looked at him. He was about to ask if she was lost, but his words melted at the tip of his tongue, and he closed his mouth again. The eyes staring so intensely into his were pleading and desperate, and something seemed to hit him hard in the chest.
       "Colin, we have to go," he heard Brian say. He hadn't even heard him approach. He gave the girl a dismissive look, but Colin shook his head.
       "We can't leave her," he said. He saw the look on Brian's face, and repeated "There's no way we can just leave her like this."
This is a small excerpt from the first paragraphs of chapter 1 of something I'm working on. The idea is growing bigger and bigger every time I think about it, so I suspect this summer holiday will be very much dedicated to this. I would like some comments, though, to see if the way I write is good enough, and if it seems interesting enough to continue reading. I'm not afraid of harsh critique, so come on: give me what you've got! ;)

I'm not sure about the title yet, so "Red" is just a working title for now.
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