Under the overpass... just another fix.

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Under the overpass... just another fix.

Post by Admin on Tue Mar 01, 2016 7:35 pm

Under the overpass, it seemed even darker than usual. You could never claim it to be bright and cheery on even the best of times but something ominous seemed to hover in the shadows alongside the hooded figure with the fix. On the corner of Lovejoy and Maenad, there was a flickering in the air, something you wouldn't even notice if you weren't looking directly at it. The telltale signs of coming and going in the dream, always out of the corner of the eye... And then there was a boy. He was older than he appeared, just malnourished and stick thin so that his clothing hung loosely on his frail frame. He had the look of a lost thing, one that had always been lost but had never known. A common kind for these parts. He didn't even stop to wonder how he had gotten here, he was always losing track of time and place, but he instinctively knew that what he needed was in the darkness under the old bridge. His eyes were red rimmed and weepy, his skin and hair lacked any luster. He was a pale wraith of a person making his way past the painted stones covered with grey ivy, past the prying light of the street into the pitch black tunnel with its dark comfort and its promise to satiate his craving. By the short time it took to reach the figure leaning against the wall, he had started to shake. "Please..." he whispered, his dry throat making it more of a croak than anything else. He felt the need burning him, consuming him from the inside out and faster now that he was so close. He held out a bony hand, his palm full of golden coins he wasn't quite sure he had ever seen before. The shadows before him chuckled, a mean sound that echoed of the walls and chilled to the bone but before the young junkie could second guess his situation, the coins in his hand were replaced with a little bag of 'snow'. Cold to the touch and sparkling white even in this darkness, the boy shuddered with something between relief and desire. Without another thought to the shadows or the overpass or how he even came to be here, he scrambled to get the plastic open with his shaking hands and so carefully he dipped his little finger into the powder and rubbed the crystalline substance into his red, runny eyes. Winter's tears, they called it and as the young man walked casually back out into the street you could see why. His eyes still did weep but his tears were pale and sparkling, shimmering down his blissful face as he strolled away; much more joyous and free than the needy, hungry thing that had been him only moments before.
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