Creative Writing-Aging: A Short Story

SECOND FLOOR HOSPITAL WING - EVENING JOHAN, a dark, broad, twenty-something, reanimates in a fiery blaze to the misfortune of the doctors, nurses, and elderly patient who perished in the middle of intensive surgery. He stood naked, centered in a circle of smoke and ashes. Charred bodies strew the room. He thought they were lucky. Nobody could grant him favours such as this. The whine of wheels and wings alerted him to the present danger, he would not be locked up again. Closing his eyes he acrobatically vaulted out of the window, suffering the fineness of glass as it sliced against his skin. The glass vibrated through his toes as they tattled on the ground, telling him contact was near. He landed on the balls of his feet, barrel rolling sideways.
Opening his eyes was an assault on sight. He rubbed them viciously because of the bright, city lights, and a few onlookers were gathering. They hollered loudly, still, all he could see was red. Not dallying, Johan sniffed out a more

It was relatively new, possibly a century old. Still old enough to eclipse the minds of the youngsters that dwelled below. There were precious few over the age of forty down there. People smelled differently as they aged, and the stench of fish flooded this place. The temperature dropped dramatically. Johan entered the dark fissure in search of suitable accommodation for the night.
After a short walk he came across a decent shop, and with nobody behind the locked door he climbed up, crashed in. Clothes piled in heaps about the floor where he landed. Somebody called JESSICA owned this establishment, and she had recently passed her year two exams. It was the year 2191. He reluctantly dragged himself off her desktop, weary from reanimation, comfortable in the warmth. Finding an adequate heap, he slept on cushions of cashmere and