Status: Completed.
Emaciated
and the moon will still be watching;
The streets were dirty with murky coloured snow, grime clinging to the walls of the rundown houses. A lone figure rambled slowly down this desolate street, jumping as a skeletal cat leapt out from a darkened alleyway between two shacks. The silence pressed against his ears, shrieking stories of cold and abuse and hunger.
He stumbled on, still alone, until he came upon a tiny pile of rags, a blue foot poking out from underneath it. He leaned closer, unafraid of what might be another emaciated body, and reached out a gloved hand to pull the rags away.
A sudden rustle of movement startled him backwards and a pair of dark, almost black eyes peered at him warily from a ghostly face. The pile of rags was but a child, no more than ten years old. And already, the child’s cheeks were hollows, his body nothing but bones struggling to stand.
The man lifted the child easily from the corner he’d crushed himself into, and he walked back down the awful street, glancing at the skeleton in his arms, anger radiating through his veins.
He stumbled on, still alone, until he came upon a tiny pile of rags, a blue foot poking out from underneath it. He leaned closer, unafraid of what might be another emaciated body, and reached out a gloved hand to pull the rags away.
A sudden rustle of movement startled him backwards and a pair of dark, almost black eyes peered at him warily from a ghostly face. The pile of rags was but a child, no more than ten years old. And already, the child’s cheeks were hollows, his body nothing but bones struggling to stand.
The man lifted the child easily from the corner he’d crushed himself into, and he walked back down the awful street, glancing at the skeleton in his arms, anger radiating through his veins.
♠ ♠ ♠
I'm thinking this is going to made into a longer story, after I've finished one of my others. There seems to me that there's so much more to it.