Like these street lights, I was starting to falter. The city was the eye of a hurricane. It was inhabitable for those who took part in the destruction. They were the watches and warnings themselves. Tourism was a foreign concept. If you were born into the city, you would grow like a vine of poison ivy. People would come and go, but never stay. I was just one of the few aware citizens, but we were all incapable of leaving due to the glutinous atmosphere. Their venom laced pleads would deprive you of oxygen and suffocate you.
That night I refrained from leaving a trace. If I were to leave a note, it would be taken as a suicide letter. I would be dead to this city and the people who reside there. Clutching a brown paper bag, I boarded a bus. I made my way to the back where the dark swallowed faces. Pressing my cheek against the cold window, I dreamt of luminous cities. Las Vegas and Tokyo seemed like fictional cities drawn onto postcards. I was hoping for a postcard kind of town.
"WELCOME TO SAN ELECTRA POPULATION 258
ENJOY YOUR STAY IN THE ELECTRIC CITY"
YOU ARE READING
Electric City
Short Story"Life will either flash before your eyes or feel like a million black and white photos." 2016 Julia Taylor
