Friday, 5 October 2018

Flash Fiction 2014, First Prize, Verina Berryl Rasquinha

Just Another Night

Verina Berryl Rasquinha

Pallid sketches of twilight dance on the frontiers of his face. The creases on his wrinkly shirt murmur despicably as they stick to his withered body. He crawls closer to my feet. 

I’m no drunkard’s mercy. I scoff.

I look up towards the sky. The moon was at its fullest tonight.

I see an overview of the houses that sat with their torsos clinging to each other. They mock at my loneliness.

Somewhere in the neighbouring streets, dogs howl wolfishly.

I look down at the man gathered at my feet and imagine his wife sitting by the window in anticipation of her husband as she puts her children to sleep.

The stars of the sky camouflage as sunlight creeps with the first breath of dawn. I dim out. I’m a street lamp and my work is over for the night. I close my eyes as the city comes to life.

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