Under the setting sun

Dusk was falling over the city, cushioning it in a soft and sleepy glow. The hot lazy streets were slowly coated in darkness as night descended. The city didn't hush, in fact, it seemed to brighten, and when all that was left of the light was a few streaks of sun on the horizon, it was unrecognisable.

The hot and humid day had faded, and at last the people could emerge from the safety of their shade. Music that seemed almost to have no source began to play, joyfully reaching out through the city, touching every corner, every window, every doorway. Exasperated parents tried desperately to control their excited children, but they still hung from their windows and waved at the people who had started to dance below. They laughed at the clowns – the men with painted faces who juggled and fought playfully with each other, rolling around in the dust.

One boy did not laugh. Dusty and dirty, perched on a rooftop, he watched the celebrations with cold hard eyes. So much happiness, so much fun, but yet he couldn't even crack a smile. Instead, a single tear escaped him, cutting a clean path down his blackened cheek. He thought about wiping it away and pretending that he hadn't let the wretched emotion affect him, but no one could see him. It had happened, despite his best efforts to contain it, but that was that. So he let the tear stay; an emblem of momentary weakness.

Quite suddenly, he leapt away from the edge, whirling around and running in the opposite direction. Lithe and nimble, he jumped from rooftop to rooftop, desperate to be rid of the music and the contagious feeling of joy wafting in the air. He ran until the light was all behind him and all he could see was darkness. The city wall was impressive, but this didn't faze him; he came and went as he pleased. Tonight it was especially easy to scale it, as the officers had left it unguarded and had gone off to join the party. He calmly climbed his tree, swinging onto the wall, daring even to pause and catch his breath before he leapt over it.

The sand, crumbling and silky, was there to catch him. It still held some heat, but nothing like the burning ferocity that it had during the day. He dug his toes into it and his lips trembled, almost as though he was willing more tears to fall. But none did, so he started up again running across the sand.   

Jessica's Cliff

It's windy up here - I'm telling you, it's windy, and I can't go down and I'm scared. My cheeks are red raw from the cold and my fingers have gone numb. Where am I going? I shall sit down here, in the frosty grass, in the gathering darkness, and decide. The water looks so nice from all the way up here, like a soft silky blanket on top of the earth, curled around the cliff edge. But it's so windy, that's the problem. The wind is really what's getting me.

Where am I going? Why am I here? Will they be looking for me, I wonder, down there in the town, so far back behind into the black? They should know this is the only place I'll come, they should know that this is where they'll find me. Momma will think I'm going to jump, of course she will. The water does look so nice, but no. I am not ready to die. I'll sit here, cold from the wind and decide where I'm going to go. Somewhere, that's for sure. But not up to God just yet.

I left because they were shouting again, always shouting and screaming. I ran out the door and now I'm here and oh, it's windy. I feel sad for Momma but I shan't go back, unless they find me and then I'll have to. And they really should, where else would I go? This is Jessica's cliff, this is her cliff I tell you, but it's not her wind. She jumped last year, the water looked nice to her too I suppose and now she's gone. But this is her cliff and this is where I go, but now I'm so cold and I've nowhere to turn to.

 Jessica, Jessica, I can't take their shouting, it's too much, make them stop, please. I'd go back then, I swear. Then Momma would be happy. She's always happy when I come back, but today I won't. I'm getting up, running in the black, not too close to the edge, down along the road. I'm down, it's warmer but Jessica's not with me. It was HIS wind, it has to have been, who else would send it? It was like cold blades against my pale, bare skin.

I'm running now, who knows where to. God does, I'm sure, but he won't tell me right now. Goodbye Momma, goodbye Jessica. I love you both very much.

White phantom faces

The white phantom faces whimpered and wept. She strolled among them, draping her darkness, cradling them close to her with those cruel long fingers. They flinched, but still seemed drawn in, fascinated almost. She was the only light in this god forsaken place, but yet darkness followed her like a faithful bloodhound. She smiled crookedly at her trapped phantom faces, but couldn't help but look beautiful. Like a God, they adored her; they unwillingly lay down their lives before her. Why?

All she did was hold them back. She trapped them here, in this darkness, that seemingly had no end or purpose. There was a whole world out there for them to explore, but yet they stayed and stared and cried at her, and she smiled back so lovingly with those perfect pearly white teeth every time. She was almost a sorcerer of some kind, she had them under a spell – a trance, yes – they didn't know what they were thinking. They knew no life without her, and were as faithful as the darkness that trailed behind her in the shadows.

And those on the outside, those who could barely peer in through the dim grimy windows, had no real understanding. It was too dark to really see anything properly, it was almost understandable if they missed her perfect glowing face from where they were looking. Just a bunch of faces, cowering over nothing, hovering together like newborn sightless kittens. How strange, how unnerving. But swallowed up on the other side, from the very jaws of a very real surreal danger, the faces can say nothing, do nothing. They just stare back through the windows and sigh, deep sighs that sound like howling wind on a stormy summer night shuddering through the trees.

After some time, the people will walk away. Something else will catch their attention, because humans are much like that. They will walk away, and the faces will fade from their memories. It was like they never existed, not in the real world. They were made in some fantasy dimension, and that was where they would stay.