Dark Nights, Shadowy Figures

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short story. I shouldn't have to summarize my short stories. The point is for the meaning you get from them to be personal, not about a specific meaning.

Submitted: October 08, 2013

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Submitted: October 08, 2013

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Dark Nights, Shadowy Figures

By Ryan Rogers

 

I walk down these dark streets. Late at night just to wonder about the larger picture of life. I can never figure out the meaning of the things that happen, but it is always something to ponder. Why did she cheat on me? Why did my parents die when I was too young for me to remember them? Why is my orphanage roommate a drug addict? All these whys are what keep me on these streets late in the night. The light drizzle soaks into my sweatshirt, into my skin, into my bones, and finally into my soul. I look up into the street lights as I step into a puddle. Tears and rain met on my face as I stared at the light, seeing the droplets of water continue to bleed from the clouds. In these streets I walk, things hide in the shadows. The street light kept me safe. Beyond the reaches of light's grasp shadowy figures stalked with knife in hand. What people would do to get the handful of change in my pocket. I continue to walk down the pedway, shadowy figures twisting unnaturally around each corner, moving in for a kill. They have blood on their hands, and so do I. We are takers, and never givers. A life in the orphanage left me with few possessions. Some have too many. What is it if someone takes my money and my blood. The world spins on regardless. Nothing can stop that. The street light flickers. Shadowy grasps nearly on my shoulders. Running would be the normal option, but we know that won't accomplish anything. I turn to face a shadowy fate. Tall looming figures face me, long black arms ready to embrace me. I embrace them. Blood falls.


© Copyright 2020 Ryan R. All rights reserved.

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