The night air was cold and frosty. Every breath that was inhaled the lungs were filled with cold air, and every breath exhaled, the air released was a layer of ghostly ice. As it dispersed as quickly as it was released. The legacy child Austin was walking through the dangerous hells kitchen. The world around him dark, the light was practically non existent, save for a few street lamps, and even then they constantly flickered from on and off like an old man on the brink of death. He walked the streets, the broken glass shattering under his bare feet, shards becoming encased into their soles.
The buildings were all run down, window’s smashed and doors kicked in. No sign of life accept a group of drug users in one of the buildings. The fire could be seen just as clearly as the singing could be heard. A rambling homeless man lay on the stoop, not clear weather he was awake or a sleep. was reminded of his time on the streets, a place he felt at ease despite the apparent dangers. He was dressed in a suit only this ensemble was lacking a tie and shoes and the look was scruffy and lazy.
As he walked down, he turned and travelled down one of the many alley ways. It was like steeping into a different dimension, it felt different, darker and more dangerous. Somehow he felt uneasy, like something was wrong. It was filthy, litter riddled its wet sickly floor and the smell from the dumpster was overwhelming. As he got to the middle the alley he felt like he was being watched, followed. As he turned around he was met with thin air. Perhaps it was his imagination, his mind playing tricks on him or was it?
A Night's Tale: Austin Vs Matina
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