Brigham turned right into the first alley he came upon. As he ran, he could see a dense crowd of people gathered in the street ahead of him. Perhaps the parade was already underway and he could be lost in their number. It was a chance he had to take.
After that, he had to make his way all down the parade to the West Pier, but that would be the easy part. No one would notice a man in a latex mask. Not once he joined the throngs of costumed party-goers reveling together in the celebration of Gay Pride.
Not in San Francisco. He heard himself praying aloud to a god he swore he did not believe in, as he wove himself into the fabric of the scantily clad crowd, asking to be forgiven for every derogatory statement he may have ever uttered or thought he may have had.
The urgency of his plight rendering him quite oblivious, he realized only after he had pleaded aloud, “Get me through this one and I swear I’ll go straight!” that he was surrounded by a contingent of unabashedly virile, leather clad men- any number of whom stood ripe for a challenge.
This scenario written in 50 word increments is brought to you courtesy of 50 Word Thursdays literary prompt: “… after that, he had to make his way all down the parade to the West Pier” – Brighton Rock, Graham Greene.