A moment

I walk walls. Dark walls. He sits in the same spot and stares at the road. Grey hair in black night. I watch as he sits. He doesn't move. I pass by. Minutes. Then return. Still he sits.

I leave. Walk my walls. Walk home. He sits.

Brass

"Rats!"

"What?"

"There are rats on the chimney!"

Ah, yes. The brass winks in the sunset, smiling as it glows in the autumn-coloured light like something out of a Gaiman novel. Pretty but decidedly Gothic, sat atop the old building. Perhaps, they guard. Perhaps, they curse.

The house below is nothing out of the ordinary, it sits within view from the wall. There are no conspicuously closed curtains or signs of oddity. It is perfectly ordinary.

But once again, my eyes are drawn to the highest point, to the tails that curl around the terracotta. A pigeon sits behind, two houses away. It watches as my eyes pass over the neighbouring buildings.

Tilting my head slightly, I scrutinise them further, "Odd."

Summer

The shine pools in through the window warming bare shoulders and gently caressing a brighter mood. Everything feels better in the sunshine. The hills roll in the distance, like painted clouds, fallen and anchored to the ground.

From the old weather-worn and warped windows miles can be seen, the sleepy villages bedded on the hillside waking with the sunlight and the heat and playing beneath the cloudless blue.

And as the sun begins its slow descent beneath the horizon, the trees sway, dancing to the tune of the birds.

Reverie

Last night's make-up lines my face as if some southward emotion plagued me as I slept. The liquid reaction, only made evident by the black lines, makes my cheeks sticky. I raise my hand to them before moving to the sink. Cold water, fresh, livening. I don't remember my dream but I know that it didn't come unexpected.

I brush my teeth, the sick, night-old alcohol taste moving out of my mouth and into the sink with the tooth paste. It's refreshing. There are no after-affects from the vigorous liquid consumption of the night before. The only thing it had an effect on was the change in my purse and my state before I slept.

I remember vaguely what felt like walking in a dream but I know, with perfect clarity, that I was awake. But I didn't speak. Six familiar voices floated around me but I didn't join them, I simply listened while I walked, eyes starward. It was the first time that I had looked up to the ink in so long. I'd avoided the stars as best I could.

But when I looked up in my dream-like state, I saw nothing. Black ink. Cities, stars disappear in cities. An unfamiliar feeling of dread welled up in my stomach, it shouldn't be empty.

One voice pulled me from my reverie. Let's go on the wall, it's above the light and you can see the stars.

There were more steps than I'd expected and the stone barrier that would stop you from toppling off of the wall was lower. I looked up. There you are. I traced constellations with my eyes, ones that already existed and ones that I had created myself. I thought of stories, then and I was almost sure that they thought of me too. Then memories.

I tore my eyes away and looked down to the road far below. I should've been nervous, shaking. Heights. But I wasn't. My eyes moved to my hands, only now noticing how cold they were - too cold. The familiar, painful tingle swept from my tips up to my arms. My teeth ground against each other as I pushed the sensation back. The voice again, Come on, we're going.

We walked down the stairs, his arm around my shoulders and singing something that I can't remember. As we reached the bottom, we laughed and I spoke again.