(no subject)

[dorsetgirl]

 

Sam Tyler walks alone.

 

He treads the night-empty city in silence, passing alleys and entrances as the street lights gleam softly on dark leather.

 

Heels click softly as he paces Gene’s city; night and dark hide him from those who would ask questions.

 

He stops at the entry to another dark lane; a match flares, shading the planes of his face as he brings the flame closer. Sam’s lips pout as he takes his first drag, sparking Gene’s last cigarette into life.

 

Early morning mist lends crystal highlights to lashes that move faster as the familiar scented smoke wreathes around him.

 

Now the shadow of Gene paces this empty street with him, its heartbeat in Sam’s ears louder than his own. He slips quietly into a passageway, stands and waits; he hears steps behind, and turns, but the city sleeps.

 

Gene lies silent, but Sam walks on into the dark, dreams breaking and dying in the shadows.

He walks alone.

With humble apologies to Billie Joe Armstrong; I took his words and haunting imagery and fucked it up. I would like to move my writing in this direction occasionally, but I know this hasn't worked although the image is so clear in my mind. If anyone has any beta-type comments or suggestions (other than "bin it"), I'd be very pleased to hear them.