The cycle.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
Nothing much. My first submission. Likely my only one.

Submitted: November 08, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 08, 2012



Walking through the empty city. Middle of the cold night, wading through the depths of darkness. Leg up. Foot down. Repeat. The echo of a dull splash as foot hits puddle. Of course, this is occurring outside. It makes no sense for an echo to materialise in such open space. Perhaps I am mistaken about that detail.

Across the bridge. Rotting wood, slowly wearing more and more with each passing day. Bound by damp old rope, the integrity of which one cannot be certain of. Small beads of water glimmer in the particularly strong moonlight. Odd, since I described a dark and cloudy setting. Did I say cloudy? No? Picture it. The light shone through. Lamp light is visible ahead. A single bench along the path is visible. Just at the edge of the radius of light.

Sit. A pack withdrawn from the inside pocket of the jacket. Another rummage brings matches to accompany it. Flip the top of the back. Seventeen remain. One between the lips. Slide the match box. Strike. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. A slight rush. Relief. At least, temporarily. A man's heart cannot be empty whilst carcinogenic smoke runs through.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Relief. Repeat. January. February. August. November. Ageing. Wood rotting. Rope degrading. Still there. Time spent. Money spent. Still exploding.

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