Rain lapped at the cheeks but the shadowy figure continued to
brisk down the street. The sharp-edged
moon is long gone and dreams can wait for a while. Puddles danced in sinewy
strides. Tucked under the arm was a semblance of hope.
A single
street light fought the darkness in lynching rain as winds whistled in pain. A
silhouette began to appear. The other
end of the street couldn’t be seen at all. An old tune hummed between the lips.
Razor like blades were cutting through the body. Wobbly legs carried the dark
figure. At the catacomb of its mind, thoughts were running wild. In its heart
was a strange desire. As always. But the reality is far from wishes of a
whimsical mind.
As the
figure reached the end of the street, a ghost like house stood in front of it.
Tucked arm revealed a trembling hand with an envelope. A little red letter box
creaked in dismay. Red paint was peeling off its body. But this time it was not
a quick delivery. For a moment the eyes were transfixed on a neatly sealed envelope
inside the box. It was for the deliverer. It quickly picked up the envelope and replaced
it with its own.
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