Extinguished Lights and Dreams of Ropes

The City at Night

The crotchrockets screamed from the freeway. 

If someone had woken from a hundred year coma they would have thought a massive swarm of giant wasps was headed over the hill.

The store would close in ten minutes.

Welton figured he was eight minutes away.

He had quit smoking, which was probably a good decision, in general.

The streetlight blinked out above his head.

Not smoking had been a horrible decision in a dozen small ways.

He couldn’t sleep.

He was mean to the lady who cleaned the laundromat.

He chewed gum like his jaw was the only working muscle in his body.

The streetlight blinked out above his head.

He had heard of the city cutting services to save money, but it seemed they were saving it at his walking pace.

He needed gum.

And those cherry licorice ropes. Those helped.

It would be weird to get to the store after it closed and to stand outside, an adult, disappointed that he couldn’t get a cherry licorice rope.

He never ate those before he quit smoking.

A week ago he saw a kid in the alley behind the store, standing next to the dumpster that smelled like a dumpster, eating a cherry licorice rope.

All the streetlights in the neighborhood blinked out.

Welton wasn’t scared, or paranoid, but he did wonder if the dark streets increased his chances of getting mugged.

Why do you have a black eye, Welton?

Got mugged going to the store to get a licorice rope at ten to two am.

The bonus to the streetlights being off was that it was easier to see the store sign still glowing.

He really wanted some gum, and a cherry licorice rope.

A figure appeared in front of Welton and he felt a breath he didn’t ask for hit the roof of his mouth.

The person was tall, with a misshapen head.

Welton stepped off the sidewalk, into damp grass that sunk under his feet.

The person was wearing a hairnet and a Continental baking windbreaker.

If their shift started at 2 am, they were going to be late.

Welton had a block to go to get to the store.

His jaw was working like it already had gum to chew.

In a week, he had become addicted to gum and cherry licorice.

And the kid he had seen next to the dumpster, eating the cherry licorice rope, the kid that gave him the idea in the first place, had been smoking a cigarette.

***

Author’s Note:

This one is later than usual because I must do a variety of things to supplement my income.

In less than two years I have created an amazing collection of short fiction.

Inviting a friend in is like bringing an out-of-town guest to a used bookstore they otherwise would have never found on their own.

An annual subscription works out to EIGHT CENTS per existing story, with a new one posted every day.

I will create daily fiction as long as I possibly can but I simply need more financial support.