Hello everyone whoever reading the story I am just a humble person who has been reading books for a long time so I decided to do a little experiment of sorts. I don't have the patience to write or the ability to have the ideas so decided to use the...
( Song for this chapter is Oranged Colored Sky by Nat Cole King )
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The usually hazy city lay wrapped in a rare, golden glow as the sun began its slow descent. A sea of oranges, deep and rich as a Highland whisky, stretched across the sky, merging with wisps of pink that softened the edges of the fading light. For once, the city's usual gloom and smoke had given way, if only briefly, to a warmth that touched even its darkest corners. The light poured down between buildings, casting long, copper shadows across the streets as people made their way back to the comforts of home, finding a peace that only came in these fleeting moments before dusk. It was as if the city itself was taking a breath, holding onto the last hints of day before surrendering to the night.
Nestled in their usual spot among the shiny, yellow cabs lined up in a row, Old Spartan and Keeper waited quietly, hidden in the back, their shadowy forms blending with the deepening amber hues. Keeper leaned against the Spartan, arms folded, his rough face softened in the warm glow as he gazed out over the city. For all his years, there was still something about a sky like this that made him pause. The fiery orange felt as if it held secrets, whispering tales of old souls and long-forgotten places, stories that might yet be found among the night's wanderers.
"Aye, it's a rare sight, isn't it, Spartan?" Keeper murmured, his thick Scottish brogue rolling out slow and steady. "This old city, bathed in light for once. Almost like it's remindin' folk there's more than shadows here." He chuckled softly, patting the cab's roof as if Spartan could share in his thoughts. "No' that we've much time left tae enjoy it. Soon enough, the haze'll be back, and the city'll go roarin' again."
The cab, rusted but loyal, seemed to hum in agreement, jazz music drifting softly from its old speakers, filling the air with a low, haunting tune. This rare sunset outing , even Spartan seemed at ease, the old car savoring the change in pace, its usually creaky frame bathed in the glow of the sunset, making it look almost majestic. They both knew it wouldn't be long before another soul—lost, weary, or curious—would stumble into their journey. Aye, each night brought them someone new, someone drawn to the strange comfort Keeper and Spartan offered, a journey that didn't always end where it began.
Then, just as Keeper was drifting deeper into his thoughts, a sound shattered the calm—a yell echoed through the amber-tinged streets, sharp and hurried. Keeper straightened, narrowing his gaze down the street. Out of the sea of orange light came two figures, running with wild abandon—a bride and groom, their wedding attire whipping in the wind, faces flushed with a mix of excitement and desperation. Behind them surged a crowd of well-dressed guests, calling out, their voices edged with anger and confusion, their fancy shoes clacking as they tried to keep up.
The bride and groom darted through the crowd, their eyes catching the gleam of Old Spartan parked in the back row. Without a second thought, they bolted toward the cab, the bride's veil streaming behind her like a ghostly tail. Keeper moved without a word, opening Spartan's door, his gaze steady and unreadable as the two clambered into the backseat, breaths coming in short gasps.
