(note: This is far from complete, hence "Part 1", I posted this to get some feedback on it. I'm not entirely happy with the way its going so far. please give me some feedback so I can make some improvements.)Alan wouldn’t kill him; he
probably wouldn’t even hurt him. He just stood quietly watching the guard move
about. He did not know the guard personally, but he did know that the guard was
young; he knew the guard had a family. He had heard from some of the others
that this guard was a loser, and a push over. That told Alan that this guard
was likely good person and simply chose the wrong profession, so he wouldn’t
kill him. He did have to get past him and it bothered him that the guard would
probably lose his job because of it, for letting him get away.



Alan tugged on his jumpsuit. It
was a pity people didn’t wear these normally, Alan thought. They were very
comfortable, but they would need pockets. The bright orange colour of his suit
reflected the dim light and made the nearby walls glow like Halloween.



Finally the guard turned around
and saw Alan standing there watching him. The guard took a step back and placed
a hand on his belt, on his baton.

“How did you get out of your
cell?” The guard asked, surprise and fear bursting from his mouth and flying
along beside the words.

“The door was open.” Alan
responded casually, the way young children often answer obvious questions. “It
was time for me to leave, anyway. I'm tired of being here.”



The guard took several large
steps toward a bright red phone which sat conveniently next to a bright red
button. The phone connected to a room filled with other prison guards and the
red button would raise an alarm. The alarm signal was a loud siren and a bright
red light. Everything bad is red, Alan often noted.



“I could kill you.” Alan told the
guard. “I won’t, but I could if I wanted to.”



Alan’s words caused the guard to
stop. He turned and faced Alan, who still hadn’t taken a step. Alan was a
rather odd looking man. He stood six feet five inches tall and likely only
weighed around one-hundred and thirty pounds. His skin hung about him very
loosely and was an strange mottled colour. Alan always looked as if he was wearing
white powdered make-up over top of a dark tan. His eyes were a pale blue, but
never really seemed to have any colour at all, as if the blue in his eyes
refused to be blue.



“I’d much rather you just let me
leave. The door is right through there.” Alan gestured with his hand. “You only
need to stay were you are.”



The guard took a few steps toward
Alan and opened his mouth to speak, but decided instead to pause and think
about his words. It appeared as though he felt what he said next must be
carefully chosen.



“Nobody even knows I'm here, only
you do, and the two cameras in this hall are watching the floor quite intently.
No one can see you. They won’t know that you just let me walk by.” Alan’s tone
of voice was very flat. There was no threat in his voice; he wasn’t trying to
scare the guard. Alan simply told things the way there were. He was always
polite and he never, ever lied. Ever.



The guard chuckled nervously. “I
can’t just let you go. You’re a convicted felon; you’re in prison for a
reason.”



Alan stared back at the young
guard stoically. “There is nothing else that you can do. I really do not wish
to explain, but I think the only other way is to hurt you so you should stand
still and listen. When I am done you are going to let me leave. You can tell them whatever you wish.”



Once Alan began to speak it was
impossible to ignore him. Not difficult, not unpleasant, not even unwise.
Impossible.



* * *



I know you think I am a bad
person. I wear the colour of sin. You did not put me here, no one really put me
here. I chose to be here. I wanted to be here because there was something I
wanted to do. My desire for it was so strong it was almost a need, like hunger
or thirst. Have you ever not eaten for a long time and felt pains in your
stomach? This desire is much worse than that, so much stronger. I am driven so
often by things, or to things, that I should, by all logic, be able to simply
ignore and forget. I do not forget though, and it does not go away.