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No RX Clonidine


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by Christina Brandon No RX Clonidine, “I can feel them laughing,” the homeless man confided to the violin player, his eyes studying the worn concrete stairs that led into the pedestrian tunnel, thinking what a pity it was that the violin player wouldn't know how beautiful, how romantic the tunnel looked since it had been restored to its former grandeur. There was no elevator so her wheelchair kept her above.

“At least they're happy,” she mumbled, making a show of tuning her violin.

He thought about that for a moment, then grinned, Clonidine craiglist. His teeth were brown, the same brown as his eyes, a generic color like cardboard.

“But they scream sometimes,” he shivered, No RX Clonidine. “They're in pain. They woke me up last night. 750mg Clonidine, I had a dream I was in the earthquake again. . . .”

She looked down into the tunnel from her perch above the stairs. Even in the noon sun, she couldn't see beyond the base of the stairs and the slender columns supporting three arches. She didn't want to encourage him to stick around so she never told him that she sometimes heard things when she was alone. Scraping, Clonidine australia, laughter, something heavy getting dropped, a scream. If the day was cloudy and she focused her gaze down there long enough, beyond the arches, to the darkness, she felt as if she were staring into the bowels of something terrible, and she believed his stories, No RX Clonidine.

“I'm going to play now,” she interrupted, Clonidine usa, brushing her frizzy hair, the color of a tarnished penny, off her shoulder. She hated it when he talked to her while she played. Though she worried how the heat and humidity affected her violin, she preferred to play in the afternoons. Every morning during rush hour, 50mg Clonidine, a company of coughs and honks of traffic and the dull rumble of jabbering and snippets of music bursting from headphones and feet running up and down the stairs overtook her playing. No RX Clonidine, Hardly anyone noticed her skill, even those that tossed a few coins into her beat up case. They noticed her wheelchair, not her music.

The homeless man stood, picked up his tin cup, 150mg Clonidine, a couple coins pinging against the side, and eased himself downstairs, the violin's melancholy notes escorting him. He hadn't slept well the night before. His body had laid corkscrewed together as he tried to ignore the ghosts in the tunnel.

The three boys laughed as they fled into the tunnel, No RX Clonidine. At night, their bodies looked like silhouettes flying through a shadow box, 200mg Clonidine.

“That was close. I thought we were busted for sure!” Mike said as he sailed over the last steps and landed on his hands and knees, in a pile of dried leaves.

“Nah. No RX Clonidine, That security guard doesn't give a shit. I mean, Clonidine us, it's not like we were trying to lift a Wii or anything.” His friend Evan said trotting up behind him. He yanked at the collar of his hoodie to cool himself down from the run and glimpsed himself in the glossy tiled ceiling and started. In the faint orange light, it looked like he was melting.

The third friend, Burt, sauntered down, Clonidine canada, his hands searching his pockets for cigarettes. He tilted his head toward the abandoned tunnel that ran perpendicular to the main pedestrian tunnel, No RX Clonidine. They settled there with just enough light that they could see, but far enough back that a passerby would assume the tunnel was empty.

“Well, let's see what we got, Clonidine japan, ” he said, cigarette dangling from his lips.

They emptied their swollen pockets of their booty and tossed them in the center of the circle: a snack-sized bag of Cheetos and cool ranch Doritos, a couple packets of gum in mint, cool breeze and watermelon flavors, two packages of original flavor Skittles, a Snickers, Clonidine uk, a Payday, four packages of peanut-butter cheese crackers.

“It smells down here,” Mike said, nose in the air. No RX Clonidine, “Like. Clonidine mexico, . . wet. Wet wood or something –”

“What was that?” Evan asked. His head whirred behind him, No RX Clonidine.

“Dude, it was just me,” Burt said, 500mg Clonidine, “I'm tryin' to light a cigarette. Is that all. No tic-tacs?” The other two shook their heads. He sighed and snatched two packs of mint gum and the Snickers. No RX Clonidine, “Hey, did you get the Playboy?” Mike asked, flicking leaf debris from his palm.

“Sure did.” Reaching under his hoodie, Clonidine overseas, Evan produced the magazine from the waste band of his jeans. He offered it to his friend who gave him a dubious eyebrow raise.

“I don't want that if it's been rubbing up against your junk.”

“Fine, don't look at it.”

“Give it here.” He snatched it and tore of the plastic wrapping.

Tugging on his hoodie strings, Evan asked, “What if—what if someone comes down?”

“So what?” Burt took a drag on his cigarette, Clonidine paypal, “what's anybody gonna do. Call the cops on a couple kids eating junk food, No RX Clonidine. Besides, no one comes down here at night.” His chuckle was low and phlegmy.

“This place is supposed to be haunted,” Mike muttered without glancing up from the magazine. Clonidine india, “It's true,” Evan said. “After all those people died in that earthquake, like 50 or 60 years ago. No RX Clonidine, When that tunnel there collapsed,” he pointed at the pitch-black tunnel but avoided looking directly at it. “My grandpa even said he saw ghosts here when he was a kid. A friend of his died in it, I think, Clonidine coupon. That's why he never walks this way anymore.”

Mike flicked his eyes towards the abandoned tunnel and said, “Yeah, weren't there some stories of mysterious occurrences or something, when they were restoring that part?” he nodded towards the lit tunnel.

“Right, 20mg Clonidine, ” Burt chimed in. “Ladders moving and hammers disappearing or some shit.” He snorted, No RX Clonidine. He got stuck in an elevator once, on his way up to his Dad's office. He dangled between the 34th and 35th floors alone for almost an hour and all he could think about was gravity slamming his body to the bottom of the elevator. He dreamed about it too, for days afterward, but never told anyone, 10mg Clonidine. He supposed a collapsing subway station would probably feel the same. No RX Clonidine, Evan shrugged and pretended to look at the magazine, but he, with his back to the abandoned tunnel, felt the blackness creeping around his body, the nothingness. He remembered watching “The Never Ending Story” when he was a kid. He hadn't been able to sleep for days. Each time he drifted off, his chest and belly would rumble, 100mg Clonidine, lights flashed against his closed eyelids. He couldn't breathe—The Nothing was coming after him—it would gobble him up and he would never exist. He did a double take into the darkness, No RX Clonidine. Something was there. “Check that out. Hey.” He elbowed his friends.

“What?”

“Huh?”

“There's something down there. No RX Clonidine, Can't you see it?” He squinted sure he'd seen a light flick on and off.

“Um, 40mg Clonidine, kinda busy.” They gestured to the smiling centerfold.

Burt's cigarette glowed Halloween-orange before fizzling, “Oh, are you afraid of the dark.”

A noise, like a scratching or scraping. 1000mg Clonidine, Or it could have been cough. Or a low wail. “You—you guys heard that, No RX Clonidine. Right?” Evan asked. Burt and Mike glanced at each other. The magazine was momentarily forgotten.

“Whatever,” Mike said, 250mg Clonidine, shaking his head and focusing on the picture of the blond. No RX Clonidine, But he shivered, scratched his neck. His skin tingled like had just walked into a spider web. He scratched his neck again. Once, he had grabbed a t-shirt from his dresser, 30mg Clonidine, put it on, and a few minutes later, his back itched. He clawed at himself, but his skin prickled across his shoulders and arms and chest and finally he threw off his shirt and there—a white sack split open by a million baby spiders crawling in the folds of his shirt.

Burt stubbed out his cigarette and opened a package of gum, the sound of crinkling foil felt like glass being scraped, No RX Clonidine. Mike and Even flinched and glared at him.

“What?” he snapped, Clonidine ebay. He looked up at the ceiling, as empty as a night sky without stars.

Evan caught it first, out of the corner of his eye. No RX Clonidine, “Holy shit!” he said, in spite of himself. There was a fuzzy glow, a pale yellow, down in the tunnel. Another sharp sound, like a click or a snap.

Mike and Burt stared, “What the hell. . , No RX Clonidine. ?”

Evan sprung to his feet, that feeling of Nothing straining his chest. “You see –” he stuttered.

Mike crunched on the Doritos bag as he stood; the sound made him jump back and stumble into Burt who was leaping onto his feet and the two of them jostled Evan who snapped into a run. Burt and Mike dodged out of the tunnel behind him, slipping up the steps, leaving their booty behind. No RX Clonidine, The homeless man was shaken awake by the sounds of dozens of feet slamming against the ground and fighting for the stairs. Their screams ricocheted off the ceiling as it groaned and split, raining chunks of concrete and brick down on everyone. Someone tugged on his hand as the whole earth crumbled and split apart and his hand slipped and he was falling, they were all falling. . . , No RX Clonidine.

He gasped. Bolted upright. He rubbed his eyes with shaking hands. He was sitting on his cardboard bed, the coat he used for a blanket bunched up at his knees. No RX Clonidine, He shuffled around his little space, a big concrete hole behind a “Do Not Enter” sign, nudging soda cans and bottles he collected from the commuters garbage out of the way. He used a flashlight with stolen batteries to find the bucket where he relieved himself. Before going back to bed, he glanced out into the tunnel and saw a glow, heard the fevered whispers. The ghosts were moving.

He would have to tell the violin player about this in the morning.

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