Today on Drabble Wednesday I take you to the darkest corners of the city, where strange and dangerous things lurk...
When the Rain Falls
The misty patter of the rain on the fire escape splashing to the asphalt alley sang a pleasing discord rhythm into the night. Tiny ears twitched from the window sill above the fire escape. It liked the rain. The rain made it strong. It wiggled through a crack in the frame, and dropped near a puddle. A small proboscis extended, drinking the rainwater, the minuscule heartbeat pumping, pumping.
Liquid, liquid, more liquid.
It looked back inside, at the desiccated husk of a human sprawled on the floor.
No, nothing left for me there.
And it wiggled off into the world.
Under the Moon
He huddled on a backstreet in a ratty old coat encrusted with dark stains and filth. He stared at the surrounding night with bloodshot eyes, compulsively running a hand through his matted head of hair and an unkempt beard.
Above the skyline, shadowed by clouds, a full moon glittered.
Something rumbled in the man’s chest. A moan? A growl? A skittering noise, guttural and deep. His fingers dug into the sidewalk as claws formed and grew from fingernails, scraping gouges in cement. His jaw slid and shifted, his teeth elongating into canine fangs.
And with a howl, the werewolf hunted.
Echoes in the Park
Inside the shelter of a steel and glass metropolis, a small patch of greenery and woodland nestles into midnight. Brisk wind dances through the park, and far above, unseen stars glimmer in luminescent age and light.
The park is quiet, though it is not empty. From shadow and chimera, grave and mortality they appear, breathed into nocturnal half-life drifting outside the world they once knew. They journey on the translucent mist of the witching hour, fed by the music of sighs and whispered echoes. They are naught but sorrowed ghosts of the unremembered, the abandoned, ghosts that will not die.
© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved