THE CITY BY NIGHT.
Created | Updated Jan 15, 2008
A poet and a far better writer than I will ever be asked, "What is the City really like at night, having told him one of my stories, comprising two A4 sheets, he said "why don't you write a poem on this fantastic subject. So I took the same story, and condensed it to nine short paragraphs. The result is far deeper than first appears, and covers a side of the City completely unknown to the average commuter and nightlife visitor. In this format, the story could be used as a guide for any writer to use imagination, and any personal experience to expand it back into a short story of merit. Any offers?
THE CITY BY NIGHT.
With crowds long gone, phases of the night pass by until silence reigns supreme, and nature makes one more futile attempt to regain her Kingdom.
The Observer-Hunter's wait, a shadow to the right appears and two heads turn as one, just a large rat as it slowly crosses the cobbled, dimly lit street, and starts to feed on the pile of bones left in the Tatter's yard
The two resume their patient watch, the second rat ignored as it joins its fellow at the feast.
The next silent shadow is the quarry, a thief just visible on the skyline as he makes his greedy way, just once too often. Soon he returns from the warehouse with his prize, then another and another, the pile grows and still he goes back for more.
The trickle of rats has become a stream, a flood. They are in front of us, behind us, Hell! they are even under the van. Thousands of them, fighting, squeaking, squealing.
The silence of the night has gone. The pile of bones a heaving mass of bodies, boring and ripping, stripping marrow and flesh from rotting bone.
At last the cobbled street is clear, the party is complete, then the trap is sprung; the thief's adrenaline charged body has wings, to no avail, this Hunter is the best.
A scream of fear drowns out the feeding frenzy of the horde squabbling over rancid flesh, brief respite, a moment of silence, and then the morbid feast resumes.
Nature has reclaimed her throne until the final phase has passed, and returning crowds in ignorance take charge once more.
THE END.
Or is it the beginning?
THE CITY BY NIGHT.
With crowds long gone, phases of the night pass by until silence reigns supreme, and nature makes one more futile attempt to regain her Kingdom.
The Observer-Hunter's wait, a shadow to the right appears and two heads turn as one, just a large rat as it slowly crosses the cobbled, dimly lit street, and starts to feed on the pile of bones left in the Tatter's yard
The two resume their patient watch, the second rat ignored as it joins its fellow at the feast.
The next silent shadow is the quarry, a thief just visible on the skyline as he makes his greedy way, just once too often. Soon he returns from the warehouse with his prize, then another and another, the pile grows and still he goes back for more.
The trickle of rats has become a stream, a flood. They are in front of us, behind us, Hell! they are even under the van. Thousands of them, fighting, squeaking, squealing.
The silence of the night has gone. The pile of bones a heaving mass of bodies, boring and ripping, stripping marrow and flesh from rotting bone.
At last the cobbled street is clear, the party is complete, then the trap is sprung; the thief's adrenaline charged body has wings, to no avail, this Hunter is the best.
A scream of fear drowns out the feeding frenzy of the horde squabbling over rancid flesh, brief respite, a moment of silence, and then the morbid feast resumes.
Nature has reclaimed her throne until the final phase has passed, and returning crowds in ignorance take charge once more.
THE END.
Or is it the beginning?
