Her urban tundra.A Story by Sarah DrozdzAt a minute past midnight, Gage disappeared briskly into the concealed realm of the underpass, where every crevice in the graffiti splashed walls remained an echo of municipal poverty. Onward she went with her Ash boots crushing once thirst quenching Subway cups that coincided with the subway itself. With a brief pause she tilted her head towards the left hand side of the tunnel where a skeletal busker sat cross-legged. The busker, a weary rendition of the Buddha, once radiant, golden and proud, was now red faced with tobacco stained teeth and discoloured fingernails that scratched away at his retreating hairline and lost memories.
As she pressed forward, the cracks in the pavement beneath her feet were filled with the tears of unwanted ones and the vines that ensnared the walls of the downbeat city escalated up to empyrean, scraping the clouds with the thorns of humanity’s pain. Was this a dream? Her mind sustained not a single clear thought as she slipped through the velvet night, taking in the tall urban buildings that maintained a forced silence after years of witnessing unspeakable gestures. They carried along- sidewalks that seemed to lead her nowhere. Beneath the feet of foundation, the rubble and steel, was enough soul between the cracks in the concrete to make Aretha Franklin blush.
The more she wandered with solitary footsteps, the more Gage began to realise that madmen lurked in every corner, swallowed up by the darkness with the only visibility coming from the light of their burning lighters which spat amber sparks. She knew at this point that the Devil wished to throw her life off the sidewalk and into wastelands that she knew existed only on landscapes of the mind. She thought she had seen him once, one night similar to this one, when the clouds covered the stars and the moon was too afraid to venture out. His eyes were blazing stars and he walked in dark and tempting shadows. As she moved under the dimly lit streets, the inaudible voices of strangers hung lighter on the air as she walked beneath streetlights that burned with an intensity of a dying love making its last stand. The night-time blinded her conscious mind and awakened the esoteric sinner in her. This remainder of earth felt like hers, breathing like a dozing monster with a thousand eyes and a thousand beating hearts. Enclosed was she, in this city of steel and iron girders that some called a broken promise; an abandoned enclave. Others called it a grasping fortuity or rather a desperate chance.
At last her surroundings disappeared and she stood at the juncture of the crossroad, staring emptily behind her at the remainder of the abandoned city which homed all the streets she walked and every dim corner where she once shared tender kisses. Her steps become faster, slipping across the earth with no hesitation singing in her sorry bones. Traffic no longer dripped like tar through the streets and vendors no longer sold duplicated souvenirs.
She was alone and wandering, her world nothing short of rude disease spread with a crafty contagion. Time was a wound paused between the seconds of suffering and healing.
© 2014 Sarah DrozdzReviews
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2 Reviews  Last Updated on October 3, 2014 Tags: short story, prose, creative writing Author
Sarah DrozdzNew york, usAboutBiocilium It is a FDA grasped technique to treat varying hair issues utilizing one stage. This executive is to an awesome degree obliging to restore the sit out of apparatus follicles, which sit clos.. more..Writing
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