The moon above was shadowed by the dark clouds, as the city slumbered in the lap of the cold night. A lone figure walked through the windy highway. He was wrapped in a black jacket, zipped right up to his chin, the jacket's hood covering most of his face, leaving just enough space for him to fill his lungs with the freezing night breeze. His hands were tucked deep inside his cargo pockets, which he wore above a pair of large heeled boots. He looked like a defeated youngster who had lost hope. And so he was.
The cruel wind howled into his sheathed ears as he approached a bridge. When he reached the middle of the bridge, he paused and looked over the railing. The river beneath was as distant and dark as the sky above. He stood there, waiting, contemplating.
He was not sure what he wanted to do. Or maybe he was, but wither way something inside him was hesitating.
Fighting over his hesitation, he climbed onto the railing. He stood straight, determined.
This is it.
He could feel adrenaline rage through his veins in tandem with the night gust. A storm was coming.
Now!
***
Next: Part Four
No comments:
Post a Comment